Hidden Light 2
by Terraform
Summary: Donatello and April, and their never ending dance (based mainly on 2k3).
1. DANCING IN THE DARK

A/N: Another April/Don one-shot offering, which wasn't my intention when first starting on a blank page... It's sort of a later continuation of Hidden Light, hence it's name. If you're not into this sort of thing, there is a story coming later on that I'm ironing out the details on.

* * *

"Ah! I love this song!" April cried out.

He didn't quite recognize the tune, a bright voice with a bass line that sent shudders through the room, but it was met with the enthusiastic approval of the surrounding dancers in the auditorium.

Her face was pure delight, and in that moment Donatello couldn't help but fall a little more for her. She turned her attention to him,

"C'mon, dance with me!" she grabbed his arm, forcing him from the chair he'd been so strategically clinging to all night.

"I can't." he said shaking his head, but unable to fight off a happy grin. "I can't dance."

"That's a complete lie! I've seen you dance."

"You mean to _Tequila_? That in no way counts."

"Really? It doesn't count does it?" she said in mock shock, "Spin me." She commanded.

He obliged the move and she twirled beside him, laughing, her skirt flittering against his thighs. She was so beautiful in her dress; it skimmed her form cleanly, revealing bare shoulders. Her normally wild locks were pinned up and smoky gemstones hung from her ears, catching the light.

"See? It's easy, I'll show you." There was an alluring challenge in her eyes.

"Okay, okay." He surrendered laughing, giddy with excitement.

"Great! Come on, this way."

They stepped out onto the dance floor, April guided him past some of the closer dancing couples- some slightly inebriated and moving sloppily but merrily- and kept walking through a crowd that seemed thousands of people large. Many of them were wearing costumes, their faces obscured by masks. Some of the more elaborate costumes amazed him: someone with LED lights lining their robotic suit; another dressed as a fallen angel with broken wings; and a stone Medusa in a toga complete with snakes on their head. No wonder he could walk here freely. The floor was slippery, he noted distantly, and he stepped carefully between the dancers. They ducked to avoid stray limbs that seemed fling out haphazardly in their direction.

"Careful." She said to him.

"I'm okay."

"Almost there!" she turned back to him and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

A woman with a decaying face looked at him:

"I love your costume!" she said in a sultry voice. The effect of the dried blood running from her eyes and down her chest was unsettling.

"Ah… thanks."

April caught the exchange, "He looks good, doesn't he?"

She winked at Donatello, moving past the zombie.

They walked further still, amongst the masses people. A group of women dressed as witches were dancing together, their black stringy hair flipping as their bodies changed in time with the song. An older couple cackled as they tried imitating each others robotic movements, their voices drowned out by the beat. Where was this place, he wondered. He couldn't even remember getting here. He was dressed nicely, clean from a good soak, but he couldn't even remember that. He just knew he was supposed to be here. Finally, they arrived at a small space, lost in the crowd, just big enough for the two of them.

The tempo was fast, and they began to move. He thought it would be strange, that he would look stiff and unnatural, but his years of athletic training surprised him. He had a natural fluidity in his movements that belied his assumptions. The music coursed through them, and his heart synched with the bass.

"That's it! You're a natural!" her feet moved lightly, countering his. "Phew! You're good."

"Yeah, not as bad as I thought, right?" he said grinning.

"You're making _me_ look bad." She cried out.

"That's impossible."

She laughed and took his hands, spinning them in a circle. She let go and continued to jive to the song.

Donatello fell into her rhythm easily and had just lost himself to the beat when the song faded, transforming into a bittersweet melody, bringing a languid calm to the floor. The room dimmed as a woman's forlorn voice lamented of lost love. Mirror lights moved drowsily in circles across the floor, throwing moving shadows onto their bodies. He watched as they played across her face, catching her head dip, eyes closed, a smile full of laughter. They swam in a galaxy of shattered light. It hurt him to watch her, and he averted his eyes.

"Ah, wow. A little awkward." He joked lightly.

Part of him wanted to return to the safety of the chair, terrified of rejection, but an even larger part wanted to stay here with her. All of him wanted her. The heat he was giving off, how could she not notice? Damn if he didn't feel transparent.

She shook her head and said nothing, stepping closer to him. Taking his hands in hers, she watched as she guided them to her waist. They were gentle and warm. She turned back to him, resting her hands on his shoulders, her fingers brushing the edge of his shell. He felt light headed at the close proximity to her. Slowly they began to move as one, their eyes lost in each other.

_Round and round we go, where we stop nobody knows,_ he thought dreamily.

They fit so well together, Donatello marveled, like two puzzle pieces clicking together, seamlessly. They remained like this, dancing, holding each other tenderly as they circled to the music.

"I…I like this." He said to her.

She smiled. "Me too."

She began to shift, resting her head on his shoulder, bringing her right hand down to sit above his heart as her finger tips curled. The sensation of them dragging across his plastron almost killed him.

"You look beautiful." He whispered into her ear, her neck deliciously close to his lips. Her perfume intoxicated him. God, she smelt good. He would stay like this forever, if he could, in each others arms.

She looked back up into his eyes.

"Donnie-" She whispered.

He cut the thought short as if drawn to a flame, leaning forward, his lips meeting hers. It was ecstasy; he lost all control in her, and the warmth of their tentative embrace. She returned the kiss passionately, her mouth exploring his, her hand reaching up to cradle his face. Her body pressed against him in a way that turned him on reflexively, the violet folds of her dress barely disguising the curves of her body. His breathing grew heavy, and Donatello slid a hand into her hair, trailing his kisses into her neck.

"Oh God," she cried. He returned to her mouth eagerly, her breath hitching at his passion. He broke away, to look upon her face, flushed and beautiful, the smattering of freckles peppering her face like stars. He could lose himself there forever.

"April, ever since we've met…I've loved you…" he stumbled over the words that he held so close to his heart for all these years. "I love you."

Her eyes burned with desire. They sparkled in the light, searching his face for the answer she wanted to hear.

"Donnie," she whispered, hand on his cheek. Bolts of pleasure ran through him. "I want you."

He was floored, to hear her desire so openly expressed. The moment he had so foolishly dreamed of for so long, something he had never allowed to be. He caught his breath as images of her body under his, the sheen of their sweat in the starlight, flashed through his mind. It was all he could do to just remain standing. He kissed her again, strongly and deeply, his heart beating like a drum, his body aching for hers.

"I want you." She repeated, her breath warm at his ear.

"April…" he faulted- _What_ _are we doing here? What about Casey?_ But a more selfish part of him, a part that yearned for her and all but battered into submission, spoke first.

"I'm yours."

She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. He closed his eyes taking in her smell, her taste, drinking it in til he was drunk with lust. Her response mirrored his, the bliss they found in each other unequaled.

"_April_." He nuzzled into her shoulder "I want you. Every… part of you."

She gasped at the sensation.

"Donnie," she pulled away, and leaned towards his ear. "There's something you need to listen to. You need to listen carefully."

"What is it?"

April whispered something but he couldn't make out the words. They sound became distorted in his ears.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Again, nothing made sense. He strained to hear as his sense of logic slowly infiltrated his heart. He snapped open his eyes.

The music started to fade as the room grew dimmer. The dancers vanished in an instant before his him. Suddenly, Donatello noticed he was alone on the dance floor, the music fading to nothing but a blur of distant echoes.

"_April!_" he cried out in hoarse anguish. But she, too, was gone.

Nothing.

"_No_." The despair hit him hard.

His mind reeled trying to understand what was happening. He blinked rapidly as the reality of where he was filtered through.

It was not a dance floor at all.

_Warehouse? I'm in a warehouse?_

An ambient drone was all that remained in on floor he was standing on. He was in the dark. Alone. The shock of his loss startled him, and he collapsed onto the floor, burying his face into his hands.

_No…_

The memory of his dream shadowed him like a nightmare.

What the hell had happened to him? How did he get here? He thought of April, taking him by the hand, leading him. Had he walked in his sleep this whole way? The semblance of time was garbled in a dream, that he knew. He must have stepped out of the lair and felt his way blindly through the tunnels. The dancers, the things he had been seeing...April, were nothing more than figments of his mind.

His phone began to buzz. He looked at the caller ID, and regained composure.

_Twenty missed calls? That can't be right._

"Hello?"

"Oh my god, Donnie! Where are you?" her relief was palpable.

His heart beat faster, his voice thick with drowsiness.

"I'm- ah-I'm over in the warehouse district. In the old shot factory."

Donnie looked around the vast empty building, vandalized many time over. He had been to this place before, weeks ago, when scavenging for material. Shattered glass and dust covered the ground. Bare beams, as stark as a skeleton, reinforced the high ceilings in the resounding emptiness.

"We've all been looking for you the past three hours. You went missing, god, we thought something had happened. What are you doing there?"

"April, I'm sorry. Tell my brothers and Splinter I'll be back soon."

"Please," she begged,

_I want you…_

"Tell me what happened."

He laughed hollowly, "You'd never believe it."

Despite the coolness, he broke into a light sweat as images of her entangled in his arms flooded his mind. He had slept walked before, but never like this.

April's heart, still hammering from stress, wouldn't right itself. She frowned at the feeling of dread and tried a different tact with her friend.

"Donnie…"

_I want you…_

An uncontrollable shiver coursed through him.

"Come over to my place. You're closer, anyway. I mean it - you don't sound yourself…"

"I'm okay." He promised her.

"I'll make you a hot chocolate." This phrase was designed by their brothers and her as a fail-safe. If being held against their will it was a code to ask if they were okay. There was only one correct way to answer.

"Don't forget the marshmallows." He said quietly, a small smile on his lips.

_She would never forget._

In the distance Donatello began to hear voices approaching the warehouse.

_Kids_, he thought, _probably looking for somewhere to sleep or something to break._

"April, I've gotta go."

She tried one last time to get him to open up to her:

"Are you coming here?"

Donatello hung his head. The pain of seeing her like this was too much. To fall from the dream their hot embrace to the cold floor, the thought of holding her, kissing her, and how it could never be. He couldn't bear it.

"No, I think I've got to go home. I need to sleep."

She had hit a wall. Rarely did that happen with him.

"Okay. I'll let them know you're on your way." She finished sadly. "Be safe, Donnie."

"Bye, April." He flipped the phone shut, and quickly made his way to the exit.

_This is my fault_. Some part of her told herself. _I should have been with him._

She glanced down at her hand where her ring had been. She had worried it off days ago, done with it. It was over. The insanity of her relationship with Casey had burnt her out, it was like hitting her head over and over again expecting things to change, but in the end she realized that she didn't want him to change. But neither did she. They just didn't fit together – just like the ring and her. It had been an heirloom from Casey's family. She had placed it sadly back into his hand, his face in a quiet rage. It had been strangling her finger from the moment it was on, and a queer sense of freedom hit her when in was off. Casey was hurt badly, and deep down she think he knew why it was ending – he'd never be so stupid as to openly accuse her of having feelings for Donatello, he didn't have to. He could probably see it written all over her face, anytime she mentioned his name. Shame welled up inside of her, and an irrepressible guilt. Casey had gone into a fit of despair, accusing her of never loving him, then left, taking nothing with him - to where, she could only guess – to take it out on some unsuspecting thugs, perhaps, or some floozy at a bar. And not for the first time, either. She had cried alone in her apartment for days because she was just too stubborn to involve the others, it was between Casey and her…and it just didn't seem fair.

_Fair to Don_, a voice chided.

After all the tears she realized that she did love Casey, but it was with the love and deep affection one friend has for another. But with Donatello it was different. She had been too scared to admit it for so long, even accepting Casey's proposal thinking that those feelings would ebb away. But she was wrong, they grew stronger like a fire feeding on her regret, with flames that burned her skin whenever he was close.

"Don." She whispered. She was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to her chin. She rested her head on her arms.

_I want you…_

…

He entered the lair quietly, and made his way towards his room.

"And where the _hell _do ya think _you've_ been?"

Donatello turned his head towards the voice of his brother, only to see his entire family around the kitchen table. His head, still reeling from his dream state, failed to bring the words together.

"Uh…"

"Just thought you'd go out for a midnight stroll without leavin' a note, did ya?"

Considering who was asking, Donatello couldn't help but see the irony.

"Raph, I'm fine. I was just sleep walking."

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"That settles it. Pay up, dude." Michelangelo shot his hand out towards Raphael, who was still scowling unhappily.

"You said he was with a _hooker_, you bonehead." Raphael hissed. Donatello blanched at the implication.

"Street walker, sleep walking- can't we all just agree on this?" he asked innocently.

"Michelangelo." Splinter's gruff voice reprimanded his youngest son, still causing mischief in the wee hours of the morning.

"You must have set off one of the alarms when you were out in the tunnel." Leonardo explained. "I went to tell you but you weren't there and …we were worried." He stood behind Michelangelo, arms folded and swords strapped to his back, ever ready for a situation.

Donatello raised his hands, "Nothing to worry about, see?"

"You gotta admit, Donnie, it's not like you." Michelangelo interjected "If you're not in the lab you're at April's," he held out one arm, "and if you're not at April's you're in the lab." He held out his other arm, "and if you're not in those places, we're doing something with you." He motioned a few punches.

The mention of her name caused him to blush, and he was grateful he stood in the dim light. He dropped his head in what he hoped appeared an act of humility.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I had this dream where, ah, I was...going through a…a crowd." He finished lamely. "I came to quite far away. I had no idea."

"Well, we rang you. Several times." Raphael pointed out, somewhat unkindly.

"I didn't hear-"

"We know." Raphael finished abruptly.

"My son, you do not even have your bo. It is fortunate you did not encounter any mishaps." Splinter knew Donatello well; he was a well trained hand to hand combat fighter, but most proficient when equipped. Outnumbered he would most certainly have fallen to the ever growing presence of the foot.

"I'm sorry, sensei. No-one saw me."

He had been very careful coming back, doubling back in key parts of the tunnels.

"Well, I'm ofta bed. Maybe nail yourself in next time, egg-head. It's four in the mornin'" Raphael stalked off towards his bunk, and Donatello watched him leave. Leonardo, followed, briefly patting his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're okay."

Michelangelo got up, and squeezed his brother tightly,

"Don't scare me like that…I almost lost a bet to Raph."

Donatello scoffed at his sibling.

"Give it a break, Mikey," he grinned.

"Do you think he'll pay up?"

Donatello answered his brother with an even stare. Down but not defeated Michelangelo headed back to his room, stooping to pick up Klunk on the way. "C'mon itty bitty kitty." He cooed. "G'night sensei…" he hollered out behind him.

"Shuddap Mikey." Raphael's voice came distantly.

Donatello shook his head lightly, still fixed in the spot. He had all but forgotten his father observing him nearby.

"My son, please sit."

Donatello wearily made his way to a chair.

"This is not the first time this has happened, is it?" Splinter inquired gently.

Donatello shook his head,

"No, sensei."

"And was this a bad dream?"

Donatello didn't know how to answer and he sat unmoving, stuck on the question. Splinter's whiskers twitched ever so slightly.

"Mm. I see. It is said that dreams are manifestation of the mind, is there something troubling you, my son?"

"No, sensei." The words barely left his mouth.

Splinter waited a fraction, deciding it best not to press him.

"I am always here to lend my ear whenever you require it. Do you understand?" He reassuringly rested his hand on Donatello's head.

"_Hai_, sensei." His eyes were firmly on the ground now.

Splinter knew one thing of Donatello – he only ever spoke Japanese when he was putting up a façade of correctness. He knew that his highly logical son wished to think on this more, to work through it alone, but in doing so shut out the people around him and the irrational side that needed addressing. It was little wonder his dreams were…disturbing. Splinter sighed.

"Please, rest now."

"Thankyou, sensei."

The chair scraped the floor as he stood and made his way toward the lab. Once inside he locked the door with a bolt, took the key and slipped it under the door. He staggered into bed, laying a forearm across his eyes, as visions of his dream played over and over in his head, prickling his skin with desire and filling his heart with emptiness.

_Where we stop, nobody knows._


	2. THE DOOR

Sleep was impossible. His mind had run rampart over a dream, a _dream,_ he thought dismissively. How could he let himself lose all sense of reason over someone who would never want him? The chance of a family, a life – how could he take that away from someone he supposedly loved? The realities of his dream were always at the back of his mind, embittering any hope he had.

_Think it through_, he told himself over and over. _What kind of future could you possibly provide her? To live in the sewer_? _April, in the sewer_? He exhaled slowly. _She belongs with someone who can her make her happy, someone who can give her anything her heart desires... Casey? _He shook his head_. _God, no._ She can do better. She can do better than the both of us… _

A light tremor worked through his hands, and he paused to abolish the sadness that threatened to loom.

_It never happened, Donnie, it never happened. And if you're as half as smart as everyone says you are, you won't even won't it too._ The part of him that bloomed in his dream was pushed further down than ever, wilting under his analytical glare. _I can't see her anymore_, he decided. _Not until I can_…

Could what? He asked himself. Not feel anything anymore? Ah, but maybe that was it. For too long he had wrestled with this part of him, the part that wanted more, and time and time again he had been thrown to the floor, battered. And now it was time to call it, to declare himself out of the rink and to throw himself into his work, instead - something that had an answer, a question, a result. That was a reason as any to go on, he rationalized, that was a reason…

He shut his eyes tightly, her breath warm in his ear.

_I want you…_

"That wasn't real, you idiot." He whispered to himself. He was shaking badly at the lingering sensation of her.

_That's it._ He thought furiously at himself. _Stop torturing yourself._

He rose from his bed and went to his work bench, sketching up a quick design he had been thinking of the last few weeks. By dissembling and welding together the salvaged auto parts for a chassis, and using the inner tubes of tires for the skirt, he could construct the basis of an electric hovercraft. The wiring itself would be simple enough, a hassle to install, maybe, but a real no-brainer - from the control switch to the fans to the propellers, done. He could even perhaps get Leatherhead to help with an Utrom-style power source. It was simple enough, he surmised, and he could even add retractable runners for when the water levels were low in the summer. He gave it a provisional title, 'Iris', April's favorite flower. He stopped, wide eyed, and erased the name.

_No, you god damned idiot. Argh, that would go down a treat with my brothers- Riding Iris hard, are you Donnie? Getting her wet, Donnie? Can I have a go riding her hard and wet, Donnie?_

Even though they hadn't even said as much yet, he was certain it would be only a matter of time before comments would degenerate so disgustingly. He wrote down something much more benign instead.

'Sewer Skipper'

_ Better. _He thought. And they wondered why all these things sounded the same. He added the last touches to his design, and appraised his work.

_I really should make a scale mock-up_, he thought. He grabbed some flat sheets of metal and set to work.

...

Hours later into his construction there was a quiet knock on the laboratory door. He had just caught it between firing shots of his welder gun. He placed the nozzle down, and lifted his face shield.

"I don't have the key." He yelled at the door.

"Oh." came the muffled and confused reply. Donatello stood abruptly.

_April? _

His heart began ticking faster. The empty despair brought on by his dream, what he had spent hours and hours trying to forget, simmered to the surface.

_I can't.._.a small part of him floundered. But the image of her face flashed into his mind, her laughter, the joy she brought into his heart. It always won. He was powerless against it. He clenched his fist tightly, forcing himself towards the door, speaking to her through it.

"It … ah, it should be on the floor near where you're standing. If you slip it back under I'll be able to open it back up."

He heard her shuffle around the door, and call out to Raphael. After his brother's grunted reply, she turned back to face the door.

"It's not here." She told him, apologetically. "Leo and Raph haven't seen it."

"God…damned… Mikey." he muttered quietly. Donatello rested his head against the door.

"That's what Raph said."

He couldn't see her grin but he knew it was there, her inflection was unmistakable. He found himself smiling along with her at the ridiculousness of their situation.

"Wait a sec…" she said. Her steps walked away from the door, and Donatello remained silent, listening for her return. Moments later she did.

"You're never going to believe this." She said.

Donatello shook his head; he had a very strong feeling he would.

He heard her rustle a piece of paper.

"It's from Mikey, it looks like some kind of list, he's written: _'Champion's Quest- a series of cryptic clues that will lead you to the key!'_" He heard her turn the paper, "And there's a map on the back…I think. It kind of looks more like squiggles of his cat... no wait, it's a map."

"Is he there?" he asked desperately. He had been subject to one of these treasure hunts before. They usually made no sense after about half-way through when he grew bored of devising it.

"No. Raph said he headed down to the Chi-town tunnels after breakfast to go skating."

Donatello heard her slide down the door to sit on the floor. He crouched down to hear her.

"So…I have to ask. Why are you locked in there, anyway?"

"It was Raph's idea, actually." He frowned. "I've been sleep walking and... I just needed to make sure I didn't get out again." He finished quietly.

"More like sleep hikin'." Raphael's voice came from the other side of the door. "I'm so gonna kill that little punk when he gets back."

He heard his brother punch his fist into his open hand.

Leonardo stepped up to the door.

"How long have you been in there?"

"Since last night." Donatello replied, his embarrassment continuing to grow.

He hadn't needed to leave as yet, having been consumed by his thoughts of his dream…and then by his attempts to forget it. And now here was April, witnessing the aftermath meltdown in person.

"We can break down the door." Leonardo offered.

"_Gladly_." Raphael added, with a little too much enthusiasm.

"No, wait - don't do that. There are metal rods going through the door. They hydraulically activate and seal the door if tampered with."

He heard Raphael grunt in frustration.

"Why on _earth_ would ya do that for?"

"To stop anyone… getting in." he trailed off sheepishly.

"What about your bolt-cutters?" April asked.

_Genius._

"Ah! Good thinking." Then he stopped short remembering where they were. "No." He said falling to the floor, eyes closed in annoyance. "They're out in the living room."

_Shit._ He and Michelangelo had gone further down into the tunnels two days ago to find another room to store some emergency equipment in. The security grates on some of the outfall pipes were constantly slowing them down until they had taken the bolt cutters. They had come back exhausted, after _finally _finding an abandoned utilities room – but then he had gone ahead and dropped the cutters on one of the tables near the sofa.

"You and Mikey?" Leonardo asked, quickly deducing the reason. He shifted on his feet.

"Yeah."

Raphael groaned, "Fuckin' great."

Donatello wanted to shrivel up and die when he remembered Splinter telling him to put them away, which, of course, he promptly forgot whilst being absorbed in rigging up a security camera for the new storage room.

Leonardo was the first to speak up at their predicament.

"This is foolish. I'm going to the Chi-town tunnels to bring him back. Coming, Raph?"

Raphael, never the one to turn down the chance of torturing his little brother, snickered.

"O-ho boy, yeah. That little brat is finally gonna get what's comin'"

"Hang tight, Donnie." Leonardo's steps were light and quick on the ground. Donatello heard them leave, and turned his attention back to April.

"I am…so sorry." He said sincerely, half wishing the earth to just take him whole.

"What for? You have nothing to apologize for. I can just…talk to you from here." She settled up against the door.

Donatello sighed, and rested a hand over his eyes.

"It's just…Leo was meant to find the key. He's usually the first one up."

April looked at the note in her hands.

"You know, we could always follow Mikey's map?" she suggested casually. He heard her flickering the note on along her fingers.

"At your peril, quest champion." He said smiling.

He waited, knowing she was reading the first cryptic line of Michelangelo's note, written in a barely legible- let alone comprehensible - scrawl. She turned the paper around and back again, tutting to herself in confusion. _Yeah, that's not going to work_, she concluded quickly.

"_Or_," she countered, "you could use some of your heavy duty hardware in there to cut it open."

Donatello paused and looked at the solid door between them. He had thought along the same lines the moment he realized he was stuck.

"I should wait and see if we can get the key first. If I can get it open without having to break it, that would be better. I'll never be able to get it like this again; the safety mechanism is deceptively …complicated." He frowned. He didn't know what the hell he was talking about, exactly, anymore. The door?

"Good thinking." She replied quietly.

"That's me, always thinking," he joked lightly, "that's why I'm locked in here."

April laughed, but it was weighted with sadness. She fidgeted at the door, finally getting comfortable by drawing her knees close.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to." He told her, "There must be a million things you'd rather be doing."

"I'm okay." She replied contently.

She was still there, Donatello realized, just waiting for him. He sighed guiltily.

"So... what does Mikey's note say, anyway?"

"Here, have a look." She slid the note under the door. Donatello spent several minutes trying to decipher it.

"I see what you mean. He's got 'o_ranges plus milk equals a spoon'_ as clue one. At least, I think that's what it says." He screwed it up and tossed it further into his lab.

"Really? That's what you got?" she laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of '_circles and shampoo something something tadpole_.'"

He heard her shuffling with something next to the door. She was quiet for a while, then teared a page from a notebook.

"This one's mine." She slipped him another note under the door.

He opened it up. It was a drawing of a key.

"Thanks." He chuckled. He folded it back up and slipped it into his belt.

"We'll get it open." She assured him, resting her head on her knees.

...

They sat quietly together, waiting for news from Leonardo and Raphael. With her so close, Donatello's dream pervaded his mind- the sound of bittersweet music, the shattered light on her face, their slow circling movements together, their kiss…he screwed up his face, hiding them in his hands. _Not real._ He told himself. She was right here, the real thing, better than any dream could promise.

She broke their tender silence: "When Leo rang up last night and said you were gone...I was so scared." She leaned against the door, "I don't know what I would have done if something happened to you."

Her face was etched with worry; she vividly remembered pacing for hours, one part of her wanting to run into the sewers to look for him herself, another part knowing she needed to wait in case he turned up at her place. She had rung Casey in desperation; he had grunted clipped answers without saying much but had agreed to search some of Donatello's junk yard haunts. _"Thankyou Casey. Thankyou."_ she had told him over and over, gratitude and shame welling up inside. _"I'm not doing it for him."_ He had replied bitterly. He had snapped his phone shut pointedly, ending any chance of a real conversation.

"I'm sorry, April." He said gently. He rested his head against the door, not knowing he was against her, doing the same thing on the other side. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know."

He exhaled heavily; it wasn't enough to leave her without answers. It wasn't fair to her. He shut his eyes tightly, not knowing if he would regret this:

"When I was sleep-walking I was also dreaming," he started, matter-of-factly, "…that we were at some kind of dance party."

"We?" she said, startled.

He tried to contain his rising panic.

"Uh…yeah. And as we were going to the dance floor, we kept walking past other people, on and on, trying to find somewhere to dance. I figured that's when I walking through the sewer tunnels."

"We were dancing?"

His heart hammered anxiously.

"Yes." The word left as a strangled whisper.

"Is that all?" she asked at length. A small, strange flicker of hope burned low.

He rested his hand gently against the door, wishing he could feel her again…her hair running through his fingers, the feel of her neck beneath his lips as she hitched her breath, the untold secrets of her body he longed to discover. He broke into a cold sweat, and swallowed hard, willing the memory of his dream away. Why was this so difficult? He needed the door there, needed it more than he could ever imagine.

_You can offer her nothing_, a voice told him. _Nothing. _

But as much as his rational mind was telling him such, it was losing to her.

_No, I would do anything for her. _He told himself.

_Even let her go?_ The voice asked cruelly.

"Yes." He answered, eyes shut furiously tight. His stomach felt sickeningly empty.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that, Don?" she asked. Her voice seemed to plead for something more, but he stopped it dead. He buried the last of his hope under an answer that seemed believable.

"I was just so…embarrassed. I scared my family and potentially put them in danger. I scared you… it's like I had no control over my body anymore."

He heard her release her breath. The moment was gone.

"God, Don, I don't care if you were dreaming of setting fire to an orphanage. I just want to know you are _safe_."

_You shut me out_, she wanted to tell him. That was what had scared her most of all. She had no clue he was doing it again. She looked at the door between them, resting her palm tenderly on its surface.

Don tried to assuage her worries.

"I guess I just needed to sleep after that. It really threw me. I've woken up breaking things in my room before, but I've never been outside the lair… I guess they told you I set off the alarms?"

She giggled, "Yeah. I really hope there's footage of that."

"Argh, I completely forgot about that." He grimaced. "There is _no way_ you're watching it, Miss O'Neil."

"Oh, yeah? And who's going to stop me?" she challenged happily.

"If you can get in here, I'll take that threat seriously." He grinned.

"Okay, okay, you got me for now." She said. "But don't think this is over."

"Oh no, I don't."

Donatello's phone began to buzz, he took it from his belt, looked at the caller, and flipped it open.

"Raph?"

"Guess who we just ran into?" Raphael said menacingly. Donatello heard him move the phone.

The frantic cries of his youngest brother assaulted him and he held the phone back from his ear.

"Ah…hi Donnie, it's me. Y'know, your brother. Michelangelo. Mikey. Your brother. So…how're you going, bro? _Argh!_ Okay, okay, stop it, _stop,_ _stop!_" He heard a few thumps.

"_Say it_." Leonardo's stern voice said in the background.

"…okay! It's under the- STOP IT! It's under the trophy…" There were indistinguishable cries at this point overlapped with Raphael cursing.

"Mikey?" Donatello said in concern.

"_Gah!_ Okay, just put me down, I told him…"

"_aaand?_" Raphael growled, also in the background.

"And…and I'm sorry Donnie! I'll make it up to you!" Donatello heard another scream get cut short as the line disconnected.

'_Champion's Quest'_ – ugh, he should have guessed - Michelangelo and his goddamned Championship trophy.

Donatello sprung up.

"April?"

She listened frowning,

"What is it?"

"You know the trophy on the t.v.? It's underneath that."

He heard her jump onto her feet and run towards the lounge room. Moments later she was back, sliding the key back under the door. He grabbed it hastily, slipping it into the lock and sliding the bolt free.

"Hey!" she cried out in delight when the door was open. She threw her arms around his shoulders and spun herself around him, landing neatly on her feet inside the lab. She smelt of fresh flowers, the heat from her body causing his to react responsively. She was still holding his hands, smiling and looking into his eyes.

"I was beginning to think we were going to have to feed you under the door." she said.

"That would be an interesting meal...can you believe Mikey?"

April shook her head, "Under the trophy. We should have guessed, right?"

"Yeah." he agreed, chuckling lightly.

Donatello glanced down at her hands, still in his. He looked back up at her with a puzzled look. Her ring was missing. She caught his observation and gave him a small but sad smile.

"I didn't know…" he said to her gently, "Are you okay?"

She nodded lightly, tears forming in her eyes. It killed him to see her like this. Without saying a word, he took her into his arms. She clung tightly to him, trembling like a leaf, the pain of her separation with Casey releasing forth as she buried her face into his strong shoulders. And although it tormented him to hold her close, with the hope he ever had for them pushed deep down into his heart, he did because she was more important to him.

_For her._ He thought. _Anything for her._

But as he closed his eyes he could see them dancing in a galaxy of stars, their intimate embrace in another life.


	3. FAMILY DYNAMICS

A/N: How did a one shot become a sprawling novel? It's magic, I say! This chapter involves more of the family and their thoughts. As ever, reviews are always appreciated!

* * *

3. FAMILY DYNAMICS

April finally relaxed her grip, and pulled back from him. She glanced around trying to calm her mind with the familiar surroundings of Donatello's lab, and the times here that had brought her so much happiness. The room, which comprised of the lab towards the front and his bunk towards a smaller section in the back, seemed so vast , so full of things that captured his imagination – books, manuals, robotics, machinery, medical equipment, electrical equipment, the list went on, and yet without him here it would seem so …empty.

"I'm okay, really." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "God, this is bullshit. Okay, enough. Enough crying."

She sniffled, her eyes sparkling with a new found resolution. Never had she been more beautiful. He said nothing, watching her intently.

"I'm sorry Don, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright." He said, cutting her short.

She looked up at him, the person that stood before her that always was there for her, and nodded gratefully.

She inhaled sharply.

"Thank-you." She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, bracing the turbulent range of emotions running through her, hot and cold. She couldn't make sense of it.

"Anytime." He replied, and she knew he meant it.

Concentrating on the floor, she let the tension inside of her dissipate, and her brain began ticking back to their earlier conversation. She looked over his shoulder, suddenly capturing sight of the monitors containing the security camera feed of the tunnels. Casually taking a back step, she gave Donatello a look of pure innocence, before sprinting towards the console.

Donatello, immediately detecting her ploy, took off after her.

"Oh _no_ you _don't!_" he cried.

She laughed as she ran, determined to reach it first, but somehow he got in front of her, a green streak passing her to the right, sailing through the air. Donatello landed in front of the console, facing her. He looked at her defiantly, daring her to cross him to get to the panel. She waited a second, deciding her next move.

"I'll never live it down." He pleaded before her.

April took a slow step forward, standing between his spread feet, her face inches from his. Her heat electrified him, and a strange sense of familiarity prickled his skin. They looked challengingly into each others eyes, both still breathing hard, each captivated by the fire inside the other. His breathing slowed as he scanned her face; the dusting of freckles, the deep green of her eyes, the blush rising to her cheeks as her warm breath still labored. His heart pounded.

He held his breath as slowly and deliberately she slipped her hand between his waist and his arm.

_Bleep_

He half turned his head, a look of alarm on his face.

"Don't worry." She said, standing back. "I turned it off." Her eyes danced with merciful victory.

He dropped his head, relaxing his body.

"You're going to be the death of me."

As if to demonstrate the point, his stomach began to growl. Her look of victory became one of guilty concern.

"My god, you must be famished." She said with dawning realization, covering her face with her slender fingers. It was already the late afternoon and he hadn't left his lab yet. No thanks to her. Or Michelangelo.

He raised his brow knowingly; his eyes fixed on hers and his mouth a straight smile.

"I could eat."

"Come on." She tilted her head towards the kitchen and pulled him off the control panel. "Let's get you some food."

…

"Where did I go wrong with that child?" Splinter muttered under his breath, on being recounted Michelangelo's prank.

Donatello and April had just finished their late lunch when he had returned from his small court garden, a luscious green enclave nestled a little farther away from the lair. It was secluded and expertly tended to by his hands, receiving enough natural light for his favorite plants to flourish. Donatello had added a water feature on his last birthday, and it had become Splinter's preferred meditation retreat, away from the ruckus of his four youthful sons. He spoke his thoughts aloud:

"I heard a commotion and then I didn't hear anything. Of course, I assumed that it had worked itself out as it normally does in here; loudly and brutally." He sipped at his jasmine tea, enjoying its bitter warmth. "Where are the others? Still out?" he asked, his tone momentarily slipping back into fatherly concern.

"Yes, sensei." Donatello answered. He stood and grabbed the aging teapot, refilling their cups. He suspected his brothers were all hanging out at the Chi-town tunnels now. The high ceilings and the strong pressure winds passing through them were perfect for kite skating along the channels.

"Those boys are up to mischief, I know it." Splinter said, continuing the conversation with himself. "I have warned them that the foot are increasing in their numbers in this area, but will they listen?"

Donatello exchanged a humored look with April. She hid her grin behind her cup. Splinter was in a particularly bristly mood today.

Donatello automatically came to his brothers' defense.

"Well, I owe Leo and Raph a debt of gratitude at the moment."

Splinter took another sip of his tea, wrapping his fingers easily around the cup's girth, staring into it's depths.

"Yes. Michelangelo's jokes go out of control far too often for my liking." He agreed. "I will speak to him when he returns."

"He's in trouble." Donatello re-interpreted.

"I guess it's lucky he's so adorable, then." April mused. She leaned on her elbow, and jokingly stared off into the distance.

Splinter, prone to disagree with this sentiment, grunted.

"Hmph. Lucky he is not within reach of my walking stick."

Donatello had to quickly turn and hide his amused face from raising the ire of his master. He reached for some fruit sitting on the bench.

"Anyway," April began, covering expertly for her friend, "I have an idea on how to get him back." Donatello leaned back on the kitchen counter, looking at her with a curious expression, chewing on a grape.

"Please. Wait." Splinter raised his hand, and stood briskly, "I do not wish to know." He shuffled off towards his room taking his tea with him. April waited until she heard the hiss of his paper door sliding open and shut before continuing. She narrowed her eyes at Donatello.

"So. Are you in?"

His furrowed his brow, eyes flashing with interest, "Tell me more, Miss O'Neil."

She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "It involves a trophy… and a treasure map."

He dipped his head to laugh, gripping the bench behind him.

"I am _so_ in."

…

After 'requisitioning' Michelangelo's skateboard, and exhausting themselves into starvation, the brothers decided to make for home. They left the Chi-town tunnels with aching arms and legs, having skated the last two hours along its massive length. Leonardo took a moment to enjoy the freedom of the day- the exhilarating feeling of untethered speed, and the air as fresh as on the surface. Michelangelo, still tapping into his limitless energy, was going back in little loops on his skateboard, trying to get some height along the curved walls. Eventually he kicked the board up with a flip of his foot and slung it over his shoulder to catch up behind them.

"Was Donnie really mad?" he asked them, scampering to keep up with their brisk pace.

Leonardo shook his head, smiling. His brother had more than paid the price for his practical joke, and thought it fair if he now got to hear some of the result.

"He didn't even know he was stuck until April knocked on the door." He told him.

Michelangelo snorted,

"April was there? Oh, well. He'd be fine then."

The whole notion of Donatello and April blossoming friendship was setting Raphael's teeth on edge. He had been lambasted by Casey over the last few days after he had revealed she had returned his ring. Casey had seen red, blaming and cursing his brother for interfering, and his rising rage had soon spilled over to Raphael.

The whole dynamics of their family was now jumbled, and Raphael, for one, didn't like it. He had dodged enough of Casey's blind drunk punches to account for it.

"Those two need to be unpicked before they start causing trouble." He growled.

Leonardo turned to face him,

"What are you talking about?"

Raphael laughed bitterly,

"Oh, haven't you heard. April broke up with Casey."

Michelangelo tentatively questioned the news.

"Again?"

Raphael's face darkened. "Oh no, this time it's real deal."

Leonardo chewed on his lip, thinking back to when he saw her.

"That explains why her ring was missing." He said to himself.

"She took her _ring _off?" Michelangelo repeated in alarm. "Oh _shit_."

"Well the whole thing's bullshit." Raphael snarled. "And it needs to be fixed."

Although Leonardo had noticed the closeness between Donatello and April, he had never thought of it anymore than that. With Casey no longer her suitor, things had a possibility of changing.

"It will be what it is. There's no point in interfering." He told his brother.

Raphael flinched at the attempt to placate him. "Like _fuck_ I'll just stand back and do nothin'"

It was too late. The topic of April and Donatello had set him off. Leonardo weighted his words, and tried to contain his brother's explosive fury.

"So which is it: are you upset because it's Don, or are you upset because April's not with Casey?"

Raphael shot his know-it-all brother a furious glare.

"I'm _pissed_ because Donatello stole her from Casey, like some kinda… _thief_! How can you not _get_ that?"

Leonardo bristled.

"Last I checked April was not some piece of property that could be stolen. If she wanted to be with Casey, she'd be with him."

Raphael swept his hand away in annoyance,

"You just don't get it." he snarled dismissively.

Leonardo's eyes flashed.

"No, _you_ don't get it. This is Don we're talking about here. He has a real chance of love with someone that is like a sister to us. How could you deny him that?"

Raphael's simmering silence gave nothing away. He stomped a little louder in the silty streams beneath his feet.

"Besides," Leonardo continued, "he assures me they are only friends."

Raphael snorted derisively.

"Oh-ho, is that what you want to believe? Hey, 'cause, I got some top shelf snake oil I need to offload."

"Uh, guys?" A voice came from behind them, "Are you still talking about April and Donnie? 'Cause I _so_ want in on this conversation."

"And what's he gonna do, anyway?" Raphael continued angrily, ignoring his youngest brother, "Bring her down _HERE_!" He shouted the last word out, arms outspread, as if to make a point. His voice bounced through the many chambers and tunnels of the sewers. They remained motionless as the last echo died out; it was followed by a flurry of steps far in the distance. Their ears pricked, as the steps disappeared.

"Good one, Raph." Leonardo hissed in annoyance.

"Ya bonehead." Michelangelo chastised. The insult landed. Raphael turned on his youngest brother, whispering in a raised voice.

"Shut it, you." He said, jabbing the air in his direction, "No-one asked for your opinion."

Michelangelo sighed, "Well, I'm used to that."

Leonardo motioned for his brothers to move down a side tunnel that would connect them to a route they could use to backtrack. They quietly jumped up into an outflow pipe, half a story up.

Raphael turned back to Leonardo waspishly.

"He's gonna fuck things up." Raphael spat out in a barely constrained whisper. "Things _are_ fucked up. We can't all even be in the same room anymore. "

Leonardo remained unconvinced.

"We have no control over that. Casey and April don't owe us some kind of union to stabilize the group."

Raphael gritted his teeth. "Well maybe Don could fuckin' control _himself_ so he doesn't blow the whole thing up."

Leonardo immediately came to his brother's defense.

"Donatello is not the one I'm worried about controlling themselves." He said pointedly. Despite yet another exhausting argument with his brother, he was still scanning the sewer tunnels, straining to see anything amiss.

Michelangelo nodded,

"Yeah, what's the problem, Raphie-boy, jealous?"

Raphael spun around, pushing his youngest brother against the tunnel wall. Caught off guard, the sound of his shell made a dull crack against the concrete. _Case in point,_ Michelangelo thought in the back of his mind.

"What would you know, ya little freak?" he hissed.

Michelangelo blinked hard in the semi-light, confused by his reaction. Then it occurred to him- Raphael didn't know; he didn't know what Michelangelo could so easily see.

"He's not gonna do anything, Raph." He explained to him simply. "He loves her too much."

Raphael snorted, and continued his way down the tunnel, seething. But even some small part of him could admit - Michelangelo had a point.

…

The lair was only marginally untidy, the soft and ever present hum of electrical implements only serving to remind of the quiet without the other brothers in tow. The soft glow of the muted television flickered onto their bodies as they reclined on the lounges, a nearby lamp providing only a nominal amount of illumination, casting a pool of moody light in their area.

April was stretched out on the couch with a pen, scratching hesitant answers into the paper's crossword puzzle. She wriggled her toes, as if their movement would divine some kind of inspiration. So far it was not working - it was the difficult edition and she was less than pleased at her lack of answers.

_Who are the braniacs that can actually answer these? _she pondered abstractly. She looked up. _Oh yeah._

"Okay," she queried Donatello with an air of formality, "what about this '_My pain seems beautiful_' is a line by this famous 12th century poet, Bernart de…something."

Donatello blinked, basking in a sea of contentness.

"Ahh, I'm not sure. I'm not up to scratch with twelfth century poets."

"That's a lot of words with no answer, Don." She peered at him over the top of her reading glasses and bit her pen with a flirtatious grin.

"Hey, I got the last three - those were not easy." He fired back lazily. He was sitting back on the singular sofa, his feet resting on a small table in front of him.

"It's okay, I understand. I'll just…google that shit later." She replied cheekily.

He chuckled. He was enjoying this, their ability to just relax and do nothing. Just him and April.

Inspiration struck.

"No, wait…" he covered his eyes with one hand as his other reached out to grab the answer from the ether of his memory, " '_My pain seems beautiful, my pain is worth more than any pleasure_'. Ventadorn. Bernart de Ventadorn."

She wrote it down. It fit perfectly.

"Hmm, '_My pain seems beautiful'_. I like that." She lowered the pen and looked over at him, "You are really smart. How do you even know that?"

He shrugged, "I just…know." He answered nonchalantly, not wanting to confess that he had read it inside a discarded teen magazine a few years back. _My pain is worth more than any pleasure_ - now he was just living it, he supposed. And he knew it more than he cared to admit.

Their solitude was broken by the unmistakable approach of Michelangelo at entrance to the lair. He virtually rocketed in, his extra reserves of energy saved for his grand entrance. Raphael and Leonardo trailed behind him, slightly more subdued.

"We're back!" he yelled out happily. "Splinter! Don! April! Helllooo?"

"We're over here!" April called back, "There's dinner in the fridge, we've already had ours…a_nd _cleaned up. So if you make a mess, you'll suffer my wrath," She placed the magazine on her lap and looked back behind her.

Michelangelo had already begun to invade the refrigerator, bringing out bowls of spaghetti, garlic bread, salad and pasta sauce.

"_And_ dessert?" he squealed in pleasure on spotting a dish of peach cobbler. It found a place resting on his knee and April couldn't help but avoid looking for fear that her very observation would destabilize his balance. Leonardo walked in behind his brother, grabbing the superfluous bits of crockery stacking up in Michelangelo's arms and placing them on the kitchen counter in a calm manner.

"Thanks for dinner, guys." He sang out.

"April, I love it when you're over here, did I ever tell you that?" Michelangelo said gleefully. He was now balancing an assortment of clashing condiments in his arms, and still reaching in for more.

"_Multiple_ times." April replied, a grin on her face. She was still engrossed in solving her crossword, pen tapping absently on her lips. Donatello was watching her from the corner of his eye, enraptured.

"Mm, so hungry." Michelangelo said between mouthfuls of garlic bread, shoveling in bites like he needed the sustenance just to survive the next few minutes. Raphael walked around the room, approaching the lounge in a tactical way, glancing at Donatello and April until he arrived at his punching post.

"Don't mind me." He said abruptly, intentionally trying to invade their secluded nook.

"_Grr_." He landed the first punch severely, almost injuring his hand, and then continued to punch the post like he was punishing it for hurting him. He grunted again, his powerful blows all but splitting the wood beneath the padding. He followed it up with a quick combination, ducking to avoid phantom strikes.

"Take _that_." He yelled, still working out a few of his aggressive kinks from his earlier conversation.

April looked up at Donatello, struck by a new thought.

"You know," she said, eyebrows raised, "maybe I should just take this home with me."

Donatello nodded sympathetically.

"Let me walk you." He didn't even need to say it. He always did. Raphael caught this exchange and interrupted with his usual lack of subtlety.

"Lemme tag along. I need to stretch my legs more, anyway. I insist."

April swiveled from her position to face him.

"Sure, I'd love the company." She was genuinely surprised, but pleasantly surprised.

Donatello shot Raphael an indecipherable look, which only seemed to cement Raphael's resolve. He stood, picking his bo from the table beside him and slotted it into his strap brackets. From the kitchen Leonardo observed this fresh turn of events. He turned his attention back to Michelangelo who seemed lost in mouthfuls of food. Michelangelo shrugged, almost imperceptibly. So, he had noticed.

_Great._ Leonardo thought cynically. He knew Raphael still had a bee in his bonnet about from their argument on the way home. This would not end well. Although Leonardo was inclined to go with them, he knew Donatello was more than capable of handling his irritable brother - and besides that, it was something he'd eventually have to take on alone.

April rolled onto her feet, and stretched before she gathered her few belongings – a bag, a water canister, her paper. She slipped her shoes back on, resting her arm on Donatello for balance.

"Okay then. Ready?"

…

Donatello and Raphael had walked April to her front door, at her insistence.

"Please," she said, "Come in, have a coffee before you head out, it's chilly tonight."

Raphael motioned his brother inside, and they sat on her lounge, clean and unblemished compared to theirs, waiting. She turned the radio on, filling in the awkward silence between the brothers.

"Thanks for walking me back." She held some mail between her teeth, and threw her belongings on the table, briefly pilfering through the addressees before throwing them down to join party. In a state of constant movement, she began walking to and fro about the kitchen to gather cups, coffee and sugar.

"You still take it black, right Raph?" she sang out from behind the counter.

Raphael cleared his throat, a coffee would be more than nice right now.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Raphael felt a deep affection for this woman, Casey was an utter tool to lose her. He watched her womanly fussing, the constant flittering movements to ensure others were happy.

A bright, contagious pop song started playing, and April clapped her hands together.

"Ah, I love this song!" she cried out in delight. Donatello breath took a sharp intake, as the words echoed through his mind.

_C'mon, dance with me… _

"Let me help you." He said, springing from his seat, trying anything to distract himself. Raphael tapped the armchair thoughtfully, watching as his brother ran around like a goose, assisting her with the unspoken connection of a sous chef. _Ridiculous_, he thought bitterly, what did he think was going to happen, anyway?

They returned with the drinks, and sat around the small coffee table. April's house seemed so cramped compared to theirs, Raphael thought to himself, he knew that the apartments above were smaller, but this was like a closet. Any length of time inside and he was usually itching to get out again.

"So, did I tell you I started a new job on Tuesday." She sipped, looking at them expectantly over the rim.

Donatello raised his brows at the news, "No."

"Well, I guess it's been a little quiet because I was head-hunted. Look." She picked up her work place pass, attached to a lanyard, and flicked it over to him.

_'Falcon Pharmaceuticals_.' He read aloud.

"Hey hey, nice photo." Raphael commented with a throaty chuckle.

April rolled her eyes.

"Don't get me started."

"Where is this place?" Donatello asked her, handing it back.

"It's a new company over on the east side." She explained. "Nice set-up. You'd like it."

"Well then, congratulations, Miss O'Neil." He tipped his cup against her mug. She flushed at the compliment, and drank deeply. She began animatedly to explain the inner workings of her new employer to Donatello over the next twenty minutes, and Raphael, unable to understand three words in five, dared not interrupt their technical babble.

_Good god_, he thought bemusedly, _this is torture. _Not only was he trapped in here, he had to listen to the two of them talk in something that may as well have been Chinese.

"Well," Donatello said at length, looking over at his brother sitting somberly with his empty mug. "We should go."

They exchanged their farewells briefly as she hugged them goodbye, lingering on Donatello.

"See you soon?" she asked. She gazed into his kind eyes, so dark they were almost black.

"Whenever you want." He replied to her quietly. Raphael stood nearby, arms folded. He looked out the window in irritation.

"C'mon, Donnie. Let's get this show on the road."

They left via the fire escape into the night, so quickly that April could barely believe they had just been standing in front of her. With the silence of their expert training, they scrambled down the ladder to drop quietly on the footpath below. An evening breeze picked up their mask tails, idling them in the wind. Raphael spotted their manhole further down the alleyway and motioned his brother. They ran nimbly to the grate, lifting its weight with practiced ease, and descended into the tunnels below.

...

"So what is it?" Donatello said flatly, as soon as their feet touched the dank sewer floor.

Raphael had just let go of the ladder's metal handle and was caught off guard by his brother's preemptive strike, although he realized he probably shouldn't have been.

"Huh?"

Donatello continued to beat him to the punch: "I assume you came along to tell me something."

They began to walk in the dim light along a straight channel, the street lights from above filtering below, reflecting off the sluggish streams of water. Donatello could not have been more correct; Raphael rarely offered to take April topside, not out of lack of concern, but usually because she was being accompanied by Donatello. The very thought irked Raphael.

He shook his head, giving his brother an intense stare. With Leonardo he would be screaming already, but with Donatello it was different - he was extremely calculated in his answers, his frightening intelligence able to shrivel even the most hostile of arguments under its lens. And Raphael had been on the receiving end more times than he cared to remember.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Don." They both jumped over something large and rancid as it floated downstream. Probably a dead rat, he thought distantly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Donatello asked in a tight voice. He already knew what Raphael was alluding to, but wanted to hear it aloud. He was ready to get this out in the open and be done with it.

"Don't play dumb, Donnie. You're playing with fire." he growled.

Donatello shook his head, dismissively.

"I don't see how this is any of your business." he answered evenly, his blank eyes fixed ahead.

Raphael bristled.

"Not my business? Not my _business?!_ I've had Casey telling me he wants to fuckin' punch yer lights out for the last _two days_. He knows there's something between you two. You've been sniffin' around his girl, Donnie, even a blind man could see."

A slight snarl appeared on Donatello's lips. The vulgarity of the expression inflamed in him a deep seated fury.

"Then maybe your blind man should get his facts straight." Donatello said icily, "And if Casey even tries to touch me, I'll break his arms."

Raphael believed him; he'd almost had it happen to him in the dojo with a viscous swing of Donatello's bo. And coming from Donatello, the turtle less interested in getting violent than any of the others, it wasn't just a threat. Fun times. He tried switching tact.

"I just don't want this whole thing to become an issue." By which he meant what exactly, he wondered. Maybe Leonardo was right, they had no control over this mess, it was too late to fix anyway.

_Ah, Raph, such the peacekeeper,_ Raphael thought to himself bitterly.

Donatello answered him straight: "Then tell him he has nothing to worry about with me."

Raphael snorted in disgust, this was not going well.

"And why would he believe that?"

"Because I said so." His calm was unnerving, the tone factual and emotionless, "Because she will find someone better than him. And me."

Michelangelo was right, Raphael thought in vague shock. Who would have thought that his itty-bitty brother had such insight? Donatello had no intention of acting on any feelings he had towards April. Not because he was bound to some 'bull-shito' code like Leonardo, but because he genuinely wanted what was best for her. And life in the sewers weren't it.

"Well, yeah." He agreed, taken aback, although he probably wouldn't mention that last part to his friend. "That won't be hard. Casey's a knuckle-head. There'd be rocks she'd be better off marrying."

"Exactly." Donatello said with a cold and collected finality.

The conversation was over.

…

Leonardo watched with gauged interest as Donatello and Raphael re-entered the lair. He sat at the kitchen table, tending to the care of the wooden weaponry from the dojo as Donatello, his face blank with fury, sauntered off stiffly towards his room. Donatello clicked the door shut behind him, and before long his brothers could hear him start up a grinder, the metal screaming as the spinning teeth bit into it.

"Well someone's a little ticked off, and this time it's not Raph." Michelangelo said without taking his eyes of his video game. _Punch, punch, block_, rinse and repeat - his button mashing was proving to be wonderfully relaxing. And these punches didn't hurt.

Leonardo, who had been waiting for them to return, walked over to his brother.

"What did you say to him?" He demanded. He still held an oiled cloth, and had wrung it tightly around his hand in anticipation.

Raphael lifted his hands and dropped them in surrender, still pleased with himself.

"_Mikey_! My little brother…" Raphael drawled in a scarily happy demeanor. He grabbed his younger brother in the crook of his arm and rubbed his head with his knuckles. "A noogie for you, ya little sewer bunny!"

"_Gah,_ my game! At least let me pause it!"

"Lemme do it for ya." Raphael reached over and pressed a button on the controller. Michelangelo looked up at him suspiciously. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so accommodating. Thrown his controller across the room, maybe, but pause his game?

"You _did_ say something!" he quickly deduced, eyes wide with shock.

"We just had a little conversation, is all." Raphael said. "It's sorted." He collapsed onto the sofa, propping his feet up.

Michelangelo tsk'ed.

Leonardo could barely contain his annoyance,

"I thought we discussed this. Why did you have to go and poke the hive?"

Raphael shook his head knowingly.

"Ah Leo, such a wise leader... ya couldn't find yer ass with two hands and a flashlight. Turns out Mikey here was right all along."

"Say what?" Michelangelo cut in. He had wrangled free from Raphael and had perched himself on the arm of an adjacent sofa, ready to spring like a frog at a moments notice. And with Raphael like this, it was only a matter of time.

"That's right, turns out our brother only wants what best for her, and knows he ain't it. So now all this bullshit can finally blow over… Case can get off my back, those two chumps can get along, Casey and April can hook up again, maybe get married, have kids, blah, blah, blah. The whole nine."

Raphael, who had only wanted to restore the balance between his friends and family, thought he had it all figured out. Michelangelo shook his head,

"You are such a bonehead, Raph."

Raphael kicked his leg out intending to topple his brother over, but Michelangelo sprang. He landed neatly on the floor behind the sofa… until Raphael kicked the whole singular module he had been squatting on towards him. It knocked him front on and he fell backwards onto his rear.

"Ow!" Michelangelo yelped.

"You're welcome." He said with a large measure of satisfaction.

"Mikey's right, alright." Leonardo snapped. "You're a selfish ass."

"Your _welcome_." Raphael repeated, waving his hands in the air as his grin morphed into and angry glare.

Leonardo looked back over his shoulder at the laboratory door. It was hard to believe that only hours ago Donatello had been locked in there; and that now he had voluntarily confined himself in. Restricted to his quarters only to be surrounded by his machinery, he would be more alone than ever. If what Raphael said was true, then he knew the burden his brother would have to bear would be impossibly heavy, but with Raphael pressing down on it, so much worse. He didn't know if he should admire him, or weep for him. He breathed out slowly and made his way back to the steady work of polishing and sanding, hoping that some kind of answer to this predicament would come to him in the steady rhythm of the task.

"Leo...Raph.." Michelangelo suddenly called out, his voice frantic. He looked around wildly between the two. "Where's my trophy?"

…

Donatello flipped up his goggles.

"This should work fine." He thought.

He twisted the hovercraft model around, observing it from other angles. Maybe he would need to slightly adjust the weight distribution, but it was otherwise proficient.

Donatello put the scaled model down, exhausted. He had not had proper sleep since the night before his unfortunate sojourn into the warehouse district, something that already seemed forever ago. He had bathed earlier, having quickly ducked in before dinner to rinse off the cold sweat that seemed to break out whenever his mind wandered too far into his dreams, and finally he felt sleep beckoning his body. The problem of his of sleep-walking bothered him. He wouldn't be so foolish as to lock himself in again, but maybe, he thought, he could tether himself to his bed. He searched for a rope amongst his piles of tools, knowing he had recently used one when out exploring the sewers. He eventually spotted it, coiled up beside the metal detritus, and wound a dead knot over one of his hands. He sat at the end of his bed, tying the other end to the foot of the bed frame.

He briefly stopped, recalling something he had been given by April. From his belt he produced the little drawing, drawn onto a scrap of notebook paper. The key. He unfolded it, holding it gently, his eyes tracing the free spirited lines by her hand. He sighed quietly, tacking it to the desk beside his bed, a precious memento of their time. He could only dream what it would open. He closed his eyes tightly as the words of Raphael invaded his reverie like a strangling weed.

_I just hope you know what you're doing, Don,_ his voice seemed to mock. He lay back, relaxing his body into the soft foam.

When it came to April, he never knew what he was doing. He was lost at sea, and she a star in the sky that could lead him home; the guiding light he could not follow. But the more he pushed away, the closer he became. Their dance was like an exponential formula, he realized, always approaching zero, but never touching it. The pain of that truth rendered him immobile. The pain did not seem beautiful at all. He just wanted to close his eyes, and never wake again.

…


	4. UNTETHERED

4. UNTETHERED

"Don." Leonardo nominated, with a slight tip of his head towards his brother. He held his bokken at his sides, enjoying the weight of them in his hands.

He watched his as Donatello hesitantly crossed the mat to stand facing him. He was lightly gripping his bo, unintentionally favoring the right side. Leonardo had detected it the minute he had walked into the dojo - a gammy left wrist bound tight to cover the injury. Leonardo breathed in shallowly, eyes pinned on his partner the second he had moved onto the floor. He could almost taste Donatello's apprehension over the loamy scent of the dojo.

From the edge of the sparring mat Splinter tapped his cane.

_Go_

Immediately Donatello went to the defensive, just as Leonardo had predicted. Leonardo rushed in with heavy rapid strikes of his twin wooden swords, as Donatello battered them away with decreasing strength. _Fight Donnie!_ His face seemed to scream. Donatello moved in with a controlled attempt at a sweeping strike. _Crack!_ Leonardo deflected, easily, managing to slip a sword beneath his bo, and went for a vital stab. Donatello sprung back, shocked by the ferocity of the attack, akin to a Raphael-style blow out. Leonardo dropped with the movement, blocking his head from above, then springing up to move to his left.

_Damn, not the left_! Donnie grimaced. He twisted his body to face him as Leonardo launched at him, a blur of green and blades, coming down again and again on his left. Donatello's wrist was in agony, but he refused to drop it from his staff.

"Fight with one." Leonardo growled under his breath. He did not give him time to recover, instead swinging for his weakened defense.

Donatello fought the instinct, still wielding the bo with both hands, he went to strike, but Leonardo's swords beat it away and came down to blow.

Using his last strength from his left hand, he blocked, hissing in pain.

_I can't hold him back_, Donatello thought in alarm. Beads of sweat poured down his face.

Leonardo went in to attack again, and Donatello blanched, finally acknowledging his injury. He released his lame hand letting it hang at his side, shifting the weight of his staff to his right. He practiced often on one hand, but rarely fought this way.

_"Better."_ hissed Leonardo under his breath.

Donatello spun his bo freely, defending his flank . His swept in low from the left and Leonardo jumped back, but before he could even recuperate from the swing, Leonardo was back onto his right, attacking. Donatello panicked, he had been forced into a right side fight, one slip and he was gone. He picked up his injured hand again and handled the bo sloppily. Leonardo shook his head, swinging up with his swords and knocking the staff completely out of Donatello's left hand. He lifted his sword high and came down as if to strike his wrist.

"Wait!" Donatello screamed as he dropped to his knees, trying to avoid contact with his throbbing wrist. Leonardo stopped the sword less that an inch short from his bandage. It was now burning, blood seeping through the binding. He breathed heavily, trying to contain the pain.

Leonardo hissed in a low whisper, only audible to Donatello,

"If you continue to fight like this, keeping your burden hidden, you put us all in danger. Don't do it again."

Donatello lifted his eyes to his brother, his mouth a tight line, and nodded.

He had this coming, Donatello rationalized. He had been in denial about his injuries for months now, hiding the gashes caused by his tether under bloodied bandages, wounds never completely healing from the constant damage of the rope. The latest infection had almost completely incapacitated his arm, and he had taken extreme lengths and many painkillers to disguise the damage. Leonardo had been the last person he had wanted to fight today and, of course, he had picked up on it immediately.

"Enough." Splinter's voice commanded. Donatello stood, and the brothers silently bowed to each other.

"That was _insane_." Michelangelo marveled from the sideline. Even Raphael cracked a small smile, impressed with how quickly Leonardo had taken his brother down - Donatello was no slouch on the staff, he had broken many a weapon on the sparring floor.

As they ended the session, Splinter turned to Donatello.

"Stay." His voice ordered, a paw grasping his shell.

Leonardo glanced back over his shoulder at his brother as he exited the dojo, his face grim.

"My son. How long have you had this injury?" he questioned gently. Splinter had noticed him favoring it weeks ago, but at the time had thought it no more than a light sprain from training.

"Eight months, sensei."

Splinter bristled in shock.

"Months? Is this correct?"

"But it's not always this bad." He back-pedaled, "Sometimes it completely heals…but then it gets damaged, again." He finished lamely. He looked down at his wrist, held gently against his waist.

Splinter's whiskers twitched. "And why have you not let it heal properly?"

"Because…"

_It's the only thing that stops me dreaming of her…_

Donatello looked down at the ground, trying to avoid eye contact with the laser perception of his master.

"The rope…it stops me sleep-walking at night. Anything else is…ineffective, sensei."

"Hm." Splinter mused. "But you must let this wound heal. You must find another way to pacify your condition." his dark eyes sparkled with compassion.

"I don't know how, sensei." Donatello said in a small voice. He had lost count of these dreams, always the same, always her taking him by the hand.

_Dance with me_, she would breathe, as his heart raced in anticipation. He would only take steps onto the dance floor amongst the others before his rope would pull taut, causing him to fall back on the ground. When that happened he would stop dreaming altogether, and he would wake cold and shivering on the floor, with nothing but the memory burned into his flesh.

"You have been addressing the symptom of your sleep-walking," his Master began kindly. "But perhaps now it is time to take inspection at the cause."

Donatello breathed uneasily, he felt exposed and out of control.

"_Hai_, sensei."

Splinter was old, but he was not daft. He could see how his son positively illuminated in the company of Miss O'Neil, his blindingly logical character tempered by her sweetness. Splinter could barely recognize it was the same person at times, as she effortlessly wheedled out the most magnificent parts of him, bringing them to the fore. It was if her spirit were able to cause the energy within in him to flow freely, making all parts of him work better, to sing like a blade in the air. It was remarkable. But he could see it unraveling him, too. The despondency brought about by his frequent nightmares causing Donatello to draw further and further from his path.

"You may think that pain is yours alone to carry, my son. But it is not. You may think sacrifice is yours alone, but I know when I say, that this is not true."

Splinter's eyes welled at the thought of his sons, his children. As a young rat raising them he had believed them to be both his joy and his burden, alone. Seeing them here with him, training with him, fighting for him…and facing the same prejudice from above as him, he knew that he was completely mistaken. The sacrifice was never his alone; everyday his sons paid a price beyond measure.

…

"And that's the story of… Rochelle? No. Rebecca? "

"Ramona?" Raphael offered. He took a swig of his beer and placed the can gently down.

"Yeah." Casey held his hand in the air, sweeping it to the name. "Ramona. _What_ a bitch." He threw his can across the room into a large box they had set up as a goal. It swooshed in easily, clanking against its recently departed brethren.

"Score, baby!" he whooped.

Raphael couldn't quite figure out how someone wanting to make you a hot meal every now and then made them a bitch, but that wasn't his problem. She seemed like a sweet enough girl from the description Casey had given, with a massive rack to boot. Two week relationship, Raphael thought cynically, what a score indeed.

Casey reached down and grabbed a warm beer from beside him on the floor.

"Anyway, buddy," he started, cracking the can, "it's just you an' me now."

"Case, you know I don't drive down that road." He snickered.

Casey twisted his head with a slightly manic expression, "That's a relief, 'cause you were _way_ too into polishin' yer sais the other day, if ya know what I'm sayin'." He mimed the action in front of his crotch, chuckling.

"Hey. Don't mock the sais." Raphael growled.

Casey's attention was momentarily distracted by the television where a football game was on, the volume down low. A play had him glued to the screen.

"Go…_go go go go go_…YES! That's how it's done. In yer _face_!" he jumped up joyously, kicking the air and spilling his beer as a roaring cheer played. He collapsed happily back onto his chair.

"Yep." He said, returning to his previous thought, "I'm a free man, again, bud." He took a long gulp of his beer. "So." he frowned as he slammed down the can. "How's April?" he eyed Raphael, trying to decipher an answer.

_Real smooth, Case._ Raphael thought wryly.

"Y'know." Raphael began, not wanting to divulge anything of consequence, "April's April."

"Not seein' anyone?"

Raphael shook his head, reaching for his can, "Nope. Not since that date."

_Oh fuck_.

"What date?" Casey swiveled, his eyes becoming pinwheels.

"Forget it, Case. It didn't work out."

Casey eased back into his chair, his hand tapping the armrests in agitation.

"It's okay." He said to himself. "_I'm_ datin'… _April's_ datin'. That's only fair…" his eyes screwed up as his face began to morph into a sneer "and if I ever find out who it is, I'm gonna fuckin'-"

Raphael's temper began to rise.

"Sheesh! Take it easy, ya bonehead." He cut in, quite blatantly realizing the irony of this statement. "Nothin' happened."

Raphael felt he owed it to April's honor to keep Casey at bay, but the truth was, Casey had not been taking the break-up well.

_"I know you love him like a brother, Raphael. And I know that deep down Casey is a good guy," _She had said, her hands on his shoulders, _"but you don't have to get drawn into his nonsense all the time. You are fine, just the way you are."_

April always could land a blow that connected. Those words had been rattling around his head for months. Casey really was a sweet guy most of the time, but a goddamned awful drunk. And drinking had been his coping mechanism for the last eight months. He'd drilled it into Casey's head over and over again that Donatello was not going to move in on his girl, that there was nothing there, but it took a long while to get through. _"Casey."_ He had told him, _"Don wants her to get married and live somewhere with a picket fence and shit. You don't have to worry about him."_ It was this image that convinced Casey, because in a way, he wanted the same thing, too.

"Listen, how about we sober up, have some coffee, and maybe hit the streets later?" Raphael suggested.

Casey nodded, glad to have been offered a reprieve.

"Yeah. We should do that. _We should do that!_"

He jumped up, trying to dispel his nervous energy, walking into his kitchenette to put the kettle on the burner. Raphael relaxed. Six months ago this would not have happened. The sound of a cup smashing onto the floor came from behind him, and he sighed. They were going to need a lot of coffee.

"This will be good, man." Casey said, with growing excitement, "This will be good…back on the rooftops, playin' a little human hockey…just what I need."

The kettle had begun simmering as Casey began crashing around in the background, stepping over the piles of junk and trash he had left everywhere. "Who's goin' with daddy tonight… hockey stick? yep... cricket bat? maybe..." He continued to rifle through his equipment until he found what he was looking for,

"Home run, baby." He marveled, jiggling the baseball bat between hands. He began swinging it low, smashing into low lying levels of junk.

"That's what I'm _talkin'_ about!" he cried. "Take that, scumbag!" A bottle went flying across the room narrowly missing Raphael.

"Calm down, will ya Case? Save it for later."

_ Jeez, I'm beginning to sound like Leo._ He thought, vaguely disgusted.

Raphael had noticed Casey acting a little more…_unhinged _than usual. Although Casey had a knack for making him feel like the sane one, lately the divide was growing. It seemed that one more push and he'd up in the looney bin. He didn't quite know how to broach the subject with him and instead had found himself withdrawing more from his company.

Michelangelo had put him on point with this fact.

"Casey?" he had said, "I like to think of Casey as a _liiiitle_ bit psycho," he pinched his fingers together to demonstrate the amount, "like, on a scale of one to ten, he's an eleven."

"He's out of control, Raph. You'd do yourself a favor if you stayed away from him for a while." Leonardo had added.

Leonardo was right about this guy, he thought. He was out of control. He couldn't imagine having to live with him 24/7, and wondered how April had done it. _That woman was a goddamned saint_, he sympathized. He wouldn't wish this kind of drunken juggernaut on his worst enemy, let alone to someone he considered as a sister. And so much for the two of them getting back together, he thought, after months of expecting it to happen he began to realize that human relationships were a little more complicated than the animals they chucked together in a pen at the zoo.

"Sorry, buddy." Casey apologized. "I'm just…_ARGH!_" he hunched over and groaned, unable to express his thoughts clearly.

_...Nuts? …Psycho? _Raphael's head filled in.

"I know." Raphael took another swig, finishing his can. The last of the night.

"No." Casey said ratcheting down his anger, shifting from foot to foot. "I'm just ready fer somethin' different, is all."

Raphael took the news with a grain of salt.

"Sure, buddy." He flicked his can over towards the box, where it bounced off the rim.

_Shit._

It rolled onto the ground, dribbling the last dregs onto the floor.

"No, I mean it." Casey said miserably, "I wanna change, man. I can't keep livin' like this." He used his bat to indicate the mounds of junk, but he meant more than just the trash alone.

Casey had just made a point, a long time coming.

"I'm fuckin' glad to hear it." Raphael answered truthfully. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a total bust after all.

Raphael put his feet up. There was no way they would be leaving for at least two hours, and no point in getting out of breath. He sat back for the first time in a long time and took stock of himself, of where he was and what he was doing. He was sick of fucking around and doing fuck all but getting drunk at Casey's. Or getting drawn into his 'nonsense', as April would put it. He wished it were all as simple as a year ago - back then Casey had been much more stable and most of their time together was spent patrolling the back alleys downtown , looking for trouble. Sure they had made a few enemies, but it was good, honest fun. April would occasionally be waiting for them, sometimes with a warm drink, sometimes with a scowl, but upon seeing her face Casey would soften like he hadn't just been bloodying up some lowlifes the previous two hours. Now – it was just different. Casey had been lost in a haze of alcohol and bitterness. But for the first time tonight he had seen a glimmer of hope for his friend, that maybe he could heal his broken heart and enjoy life like he used to…maybe. And besides all that, he thought, it was beginning to look like an episode of Hoarders at his joint, and cleaning out the crap would be a long overdue change.

…

"You dressed it after training this morning?" April asked with a small amount of alarm. Her fingers lightly held his arm as she leaned in to look at Donatello's wrist, still wrapped tightly, but slowly weeping through.

Donatello nodded. He braced himself against the bath tub he was sitting on, in the cool white ceramic bathroom of April's apartment. It was clean, and smelt of Windex and hand soap.

"Yeah."

April sat beside him, her hair gathered in messy knot. She inspected it carefully, her hands briefly skimming his arm in comfort. His wrist was throbbing now, and he dreaded the thought of unwrapping it.

"Here, let me look at it." Carefully she began to unwind the bandages, a look of steely determination on her face. As each layer unravelled the dressing grew more and more rancid.

She clucked her tongue in sympathy as she reached the core.

"You're going to need antibiotics. It looks pretty bad." She looked back up at him "How did you do this?"

Donatello frowned and looked away.

"Bad methodology." He muttered.

"Oh. This doesn't have anything to do with the rope tied to your bed, does it?" she probed with a hint of a smile.

"Ah…how did you know?"

"I put two and two together. I still remember that night you went missing, Mr Sleep Walker extraordinaire."

_Busted_. He thought in mild amusement.

"Well, I've been advised to take a different approach to stop it."

"Good idea." She smirked.

"Yeah, maybe." He said with a quick rise and fall of his brow.

"Ouch." She released his arm, hissing in sympathy. "Those must be some crazy dreams you're having."

Donatello froze, "I… uh, I don't really remember them."

April could feel it, the first inklings of the wall, and pulled back away from the topic. She reached in to her nearby purse, throwing out extra scraps of paper, and pulled out a small bottle, dousing a small cotton pad with the clear liquid inside.

"This is an antiseptic I loaned from work, it's a new formula. It's amazing because it doesn't sting _at all._" She held his arm firm as she swiped it quickly around his wrist.

"Really? That is amAGHH, _sonofa…_!" it stung like fire, and he quickly jolted his hand up to cradle near his chest, his face in a state of disbelief.

She suppressed a smile, and gently teased his arm back from him, dabbing at the wound.

"I'm sorry." She laughed, "I just had to take your mind off it for a moment."

Donatello tried to form a sentence but his mind buzzed with shock.

"Forgive me?" she asked laughing guiltily.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

"I walked right into that one."

She began winding fresh gauze firmly around his wrist, finishing the job neatly and quickly. Donatello bent his fingers to test the pressure.

"Perfect." He looked back at her- casually dressed in a shirt and jeans, her freckles, her unkempt hair - and meant it.

She grinned pleasantly at his approval.

"That's what I'm here for."

Donatello breathed in slowly, trying to contain his quickening pulse. After all this time, just one look from April could set his heart racing. He tried to disguise it by looking around at the tiling, tapping his heels absently on the floor. As she began tidying up his eyes roved to the scraps of paper on the sink counter. Amongst the receipts and gum wrappers was a business card bearing the Falcon Pharmaceuticals logo. April followed his line of sight and rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, don't worry about that. It's just from a work colleague."

He read the card, a strange feeling forming in the pit of his stomach:

_Mark Cardoso_ –_Sales_

"He's a rep in the sales division. He asked me out last week, but… I turned him down. He's annoyingly persistent, though."

April inwardly sighed. She had been out on a date once, _once,_ since Casey. Donatello had convinced her to go then, too. It turned out to be an unmitigated disaster in the form of an extremely wound-up man with a hair trigger temper, and god knows she had had enough of people like that. He had insulted the waitress, mocked the busboy, and April had cut the night short, playing online Scrabble with Donatello instead. _At least the end of the evening was enjoyable_, she mused.

Donatello looked down at the business card, so professional, so human… so real. A tight knot formed in his stomach, like he had been kicked.

"You should go." He told her quietly.

She stopped short, visibly upset.

"What? Why would I do that?"

Donatello slumped. It felt like there was a hole in his heart, slowly bleeding out and all he was doing was making the wound bigger.

"Because…it might be fun, and who knows?" he looked down at the ground, "It might make you happy." he finished quietly.

April breathed deeply, as her cheeks began to flush. She gripped the edge of the tub tightly, not wanting to believe his words.

"And how would you know what makes me happy, Don?" she demanded, eyes glistening.

The accusation pounded in his ears.

"I know it's not…me." The words left his mouth as a choked whisper. He couldn't take his eyes of her, it was all crashing down. He felt like he was lying to himself, to her, that everything he thought right was wrong, and all that remained was a dark pit of despair.

_For her_… he kept saying to himself. _For her_…

April looked into his eyes, the beautiful person before her, his taut muscled skin, his kind and incredibly strong soul, someone that made her feel alive. How could he not see what she did? Maybe she was wrong, she thought. Maybe he knew better than her all along. Hot tears welled in her eyes, her head felt light and unmoored.

"You're right." She said with sad resignation, shaking her head. "You're always right."

She stood brusquely, intending to make her way out of the room. She couldn't be around him. Not like this. Donatello's heart hammered, he was so close to the flame.

"_Wait_." He begged, his hand darting out, capturing hers. It felt so right in his. She spun around to face him, searching his face, looking for the answer she wanted to hear. Donatello watched the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the pain in her eyes. He couldn't bear it.

_I'm yours…_

But he faltered, and her hand slipped through his like a falling star.

"You should go." She whispered, and walked out.

..

Raphael could almost see the instant sobriety had crept back into Casey's face, it was like he had transformed back into his old self, the Mr Hyde-like instability dissipating in the cool night air.

They were crouched three stories up on the ledge of a building near a well known trouble-spot laden with seedy bars and strip clubs. The air was frigid, the cement cool beneath his feet. Raphael noticed himself constantly touching the sais at his side, counting to ten, then touching them again, itching to use them.

"Y'know," Casey began after much consideration. "Ramona wasn't that bad."

Raphael flicked his eyes over quickly to his buddy then back onto the alleyway below.

"I know."

"And I'd never do anything to hurt April, you know that, right?"

Raphael nodded,

"I know."

"And I think…I think it's a good thing she's datin' again." He struggled with that one, but Raphael believed him.

"Yeah." Raphael replied, and gave him a light-hearted punch on the arm. Coming from Casey, this was a revelation.

Casey nodded to himself, as if righting a wrong in his mind. He must have been holding onto that for a couple of hours, Raphael figured. Suddenly in the distance he noticed two heavy set thugs turn a corner and begin trailing a couple walking arm in arm together down a quieter residential street.

"Look alive, Case. Ten o'clock. Looks like someone's about to have a party."

A glint of his old self sparked up in Casey's eyes as he slipped out his trusty hockey stick from his bag of arsenal. He tapped the weapon of choice in his open palm, expectantly.

"Well, wouldn't it be a shame if we gate-crashed?" he snickered as he lowered his mask over a wolfish smile.

…

Donatello entered the lair, barely acknowledging its existence. He staggered over to the couch and sat stiffly at its edge. His head was burning up, replaying April's words over and over, futilely trying to find an answer where there was none, and a desolate hopelessness was beginning to take its place. He had left her apartment reeling, running swiftly, barely able to breathe, shaking with each step home. And it was all because of this mistake of a body, a horrible accident that never should have happened. The animosity at his existence was something he had never felt before, and now thought would never leave. All he had wanted in the whole world was for her to have something he could never give - a chance at a real life, for four walls in the sunshine, to walk outside together on a cool autumn's day, for children... It had all been for her. And all it would cost was everything he hoped and dreamed.

"Donnie?" Michelangelo's hesitant voice ventured from the kitchen.

Donatello slowly turned towards him, his eyes void; as if the sound was coming from another realm.

Michelangelo felt a strong knot of panic creep into him. He had never seen Donatello like this, it was if he were an empty shell, and that somewhere outside the lair his real brother had been left behind. He quickly went over to him, trying to capture his attention.

"Are you okay, bro?"

Donatello felt the question puncture him like a knife. It was all he could do to even breathe.

"Tired." He lied. He stood slowly, swaying and staggered into his room. Michelangelo followed closely behind him, putting a hand comfortingly on his shell.

"I'm gonna get you a drink or somethin', okay? Just hold tight." He ran back to the kitchen, ripping open the cupboard to grab a tumbler. He filled it with water, clacked his tongue in disapproval, tipped it out and replaced it with juice. _Much better._

He returned to Donatello's room and spotted him sitting against the wall on the far side of the lab, slumped against a shelf of manuals. Michelangelo quickly walked over, and crouched beside him.

"Drink, Donnie." He pleaded. He handed the cup to Donatello's tremoring hands. He looked blankly into the cup, a sea of trembling liquid. He sipped and placed it next to him on the floor.

Michelangelo released a deep breath of anxiety.

"What happened?"

Donatello shook his head. He couldn't even form the words. His mind kept playing the scene in his head over and over.

_You should go…_

And every time he thought of something he should have said, something he should have done, the truth would come back and remind him of the words his heart left unsaid.

Michelangelo eyes scanned his brother's face.

"This has something to do with April, doesn't it?" He asked in a small voice. As the youngest and smallest he had an uncanny talent for reading his brothers, and all he could see now was that everything about Donatello seemed broken.

Donatello dropped his head into his hands, his wrist stinging with the weight.

"It's too much." He said quietly, his empty gaze attached at the floor.

Michelangelo rested his hand on his brother's shoulder, massaging it gently.

"Donnie, it'll be okay."

"No." Donatello confided with frightening reserve. "You don't understand. It can't be."

Michelangelo shook his head disbelievingly. He thought it should be simple, that they belonged together, but even he knew that things were never that straightforward. Not for them.

"_Don…_" he pleaded.

A dark cloud crossed Donatello's face, and Michelangelo knew what it meant. He had chosen his path, and was not going to shift.

"Please, Mikey." Donatello said, his voice calm and quiet, "I just need to be alone." He covered his face with his hands, and remained motionless, trapped in a living nightmare. It was a loop he could not see an end to, round and round in his head, chasing nothing but despair.

Michelangelo's heart broke. He slowly walked away, leaving his brother in the dim room, surrounded by the humming of his computers, an unmoving body made small against a wall. He pulled the door gently shut behind him, thinking that this time, _this _time, he may never be able to escape.

…


	5. BLOOD

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying the story so far. As ever, reviews are always appreciated, your feedback means the world to me.

I also realized that the first few chapters aren't named, so in case your interested:1. Dancing in the Dark, 2. The Door

* * *

5. BLOOD

_Autopilot, _Leonardo thought, _That's what it's like: like he's on autopilot_.

The movement was there, he was constantly ripping apart and rebuilding things in his lab, checking all the security protocols, smiling at the correct places at jokes, and his sparring form had been as good as ever - but it was as if nothing ever truly registered with him, it never touched his eyes, like there was no-one is inside. It had been like this for just on a month, a brother there… but missing. And he had not been truly seen since he last had contact with April. One whole month, Leonardo thought sadly, it must have been butchering him inside.

His descent into darkness was a disturbing thing to witness. He was running on empty with a façade of normality that was almost imperceptible to detect from the real thing. Even Raphael had noticed something about him he couldn't put his finger on and mentioned it to Leonardo _("What the fuck is wrong with him lately?")._ But Leonardo could see it on him as plain as he had his injured wrist - the withdrawn expression when he thought no-one was looking; the disconnect with the things that had once made him happy; and the absence of his spirit, as if he had to force being alive.

"There's nothing wrong." He would answer with deceptive calm when asked how he was. And then he would excuse himself from any meaningful conversation by saying he needed to run some tests on the security systems. Or the van. Or the hovercraft. Or whatever instrument or object favored his attention that day.

None of them had known exactly what had happened between April and Donatello. He had explained it as a misunderstanding, nothing more. It was strange not to see her at the lair, and even stranger not to see them together. Leonardo had given it time, hoping the two would fall back into each others lives, but he could not see an end to their embargo, and he was worried for his brother, worried that he would lose him forever to this emptiness. And as loathe as he was to interfere, it mattered more to him that his family was working, and that he could at least understand why it was that this was the path Donatello had chosen to walk.

Leonardo's chance came when he spotted Donatello preparing himself to leave the lair. He had thrown a pack over his shell and was heading out the door when Leonardo intercepted him.

"Going shopping?" Leonardo asked. He knew the get-up well - Donatello would be heading out to a large junk yard he frequented to do some scavenging.

"Yeah." Donatello said with a vague smile. "Figured I could rework some of the truck, it's looking a little worse for wear."

"Mind if I tag along?" It was a request that was not quite a question, a specialty of Leonardo's.

Donatello shrugged, "Not at all. An extra pair of hands would be good."

Leonardo could tell that Donatello was not exactly thrilled with this new development, but pushed aside the concern. Quickly and silently they left the lair, walking the first several hundred yards in silence, a long formed habit to maintain stealth near the entrance. Leonardo could almost feel the suspicion in Donatello's steady gait, and the quick clench of his jaw that knew something was amiss. They finally approached the large mains junction, and were assaulted by the sound of rushing water pumping through the tunnels, the force of the water ejecting a light misted spray that haloed in the dungeon-like expanse around them.

"How's your hand?" Leonardo glanced over to his brother's arm, swinging freely.

Donatello flexed it easily beneath his wrap.

"It's healed. Not a problem."

Leonardo nodded satisfactorily. He had come down hard on Donatello over that. They had been jumped by the foot several months back and his persistence in covering his injury and fighting using his lame hand had almost gotten Michelangelo sliced in the neck when a shuriken zipped past their defenses by a soldier Donatello should have _easily_ taken down. It was almost unforgivable to Leonardo that their lives were so recklessly endangered. And here he was again, hiding something broken and trying to pass it off. What would be at risk this time, Leonardo couldn't help but wonder.

"So you haven't been sleep walking again, I guess."

"No." Donatello conceded, he walked several more steps, "I …haven't been dreaming at all."

There it was. A crack. Leonardo could see it on his face, as he struggled to keep it hidden.

"And is that what you wanted? Not to dream?"

Donatello said nothing, sloshing quietly along the tunnels.

"I didn't think so." Leonardo answered for him.

Donatello stopped walking and looked evenly at his brother, the roar of the water in the background. "It is better that way. Does that answer your question?"

Leonardo shook his head, calmly.

"No. Looking at you, I can't see how it is. I can see an emptiness in you, Donnie. I see it carry over into everything you do."

"It's my problem." Donatello said dismissively. "Not yours."

Leonardo could detect his flaw, as easily as his gimp wrist a month ago, and went in to strike.

"You're wrong. This is not just your problem. You think that you carry your sacrifice alone, Don. But you don't. It affects us all. And I don't just mean your family."

Donatello braced himself unhappily, and Leonardo continued,

"Your choices have forced the hands of those around you. We all feel your pain. We all suffer in our ways. Perhaps it would be better if you were honest with those your decisions have affected." He looked at Donatello who seemed frozen, a still pond that ran deep and cold. "Starting with April."

Donatello felt unsteady on his feet, as a burning fire ceased his insides.

"Look, she hates me right now. Maybe our friendship will heal, I don't know. It's entirely up to her. But that's all it can ever be."

"She hates you? Do you believe that?"

Donatello breathed uneasily and said nothing.

"And you?" Leonardo questioned gently.

"I love her." he said miserably, and for the first time Leonardo could hear his brother behind the words. He released an exhausted breath, as if the weight he was carrying was finally letting up, his muscles aching from a new found freedom.

"I know." Leonardo held his brother under his intense watch, waiting for him to open.

"How could I hope for the chance of the same? With someone like me?…like _us_? I could never give her the kind of life she deserves…a normal life." He finished quietly. His mind flashed to her – her laugh, the gentle touch of her hand on his arm, the fire she brought to him, and the void it left in him now that she was not around. The void he felt had to be there so that she could be happy

"It's quite simple." Leonardo answered, "You just talk to her. Because the very least she deserves is honesty."

"I…I can't do that." He stammered desperately.

"Why?"

Donatello couldn't help be reminded of Leonardo's katana coming down again and again on his injured wrist, pushing it to breaking point. _I can't hold him back…_

"Because…I would rather her hate me now, than resent me later. I couldn't live with that."

"Maybe she already does resent you now." Leonardo told him, "Because you haven't been honest with her."

The roar of the water became deafening in Donatello's ears, rushing over his thoughts and stirring up his deep set emotions. He thought back to the spar with Leonardo in the dojo, his bloodied wrist screaming in pain as he had fought blow after blow and of Splinter's words afterwards-

_You may think sacrifice is yours alone, but I know when I say, that this is not true. _

And for the first time he thought that he may have had it all wrong.

…

April was startled by a light rap on the window. She jumped from her kitchen table where she had been surrounded by work reports, stacked messily in manila folders amongst stray uncapped pens. She clutched at her gown, her heart racing. She lifted the window frame to see a turtle crouched in the darkness. Cold wind billowed through the space, fluttering the curtains.

"Don?" she asked softly.

It had been a month, the longest she had ever gone without seeing him. It felt to her as if part of her were missing – a limb…a vital organ… longing to be reunited, to work again as one. It had been the most miserable time she could remember. She toyed uneasily with the sleeve of her nightgown. For a month she couldn't face him, couldn't bring herself to reach out to him out of a misguided sense of respect…or fear…or both. The amount of times she had just wanted to see him, to bridge the senselessness between them…even just to hear his voice.

"It's me." Raphael answered, shivering in the night air.

"Oh…" Her disappointment couldn't help but hurt Raphael a little bit, "God, come in, get out of the cold." she urged.

He jumped, feet landing lightly inside the apartment, gladly embracing the warmth. April immediately went and turned on the stove with a flick of her wrist. She grabbed a small blanket draped over the back of a chair, and threw it over his shoulders.

"Thanks." He stroked the downy material against his skin and dropped contentedly onto the sofa in a heap of viridian limbs and zebra print. He was slightly embarrassed and comforted by her fussing. He had missed it.

"I was in the neighborhood an' figured I'd drop by... since yer not comin' by the lair these days, anyway."

"Is something wrong?" A mild tremor of fear went through her mind.

Raphael shook his head.

"No. But that's what I'm here about."

"Ah…oh. Hold that thought."

She went to remove the percolator from the burner, and poured the steaming black liquid into a mug.

"Here. Drink this." She said, striding back.

He took it gratefully, sipping, his insides warming quickly.

"Mm, good." He said, raising it up and smacking his lips.

She patted his shell, and went back to her fortress of paperwork on the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry for not being around recently." She apologized, "It's just all so…shit." She collapsed onto her seat. She leaned on her elbow and began to rub her temples.

Raphael smirked, his mouth pulling to one side.

"You don't say." He rested the cup between his knees, warming his thighs, as the last of the night's icy bite disappeared.

"I miss you guys. I _really _miss you." She confessed, "If that means anything."

Raphael shrugged,"To me…sure. To Donnie…you'd have to ask him."

_Ask him?_ Cold pangs flooded her chest as her mind wandered to thoughts of Donatello. She fidgeted anxiously, her foot shaking on the ground.

"Does he even want to talk to me?"

"You'd have to ask him." He echoed, eying her carefully.

April tried to drink her coffee, now lukewarm, and regather herself. If Raphael had something to say, he wasn't giving it away. _Here's here to get my side of the story_. Raphael always did feel a misguided need to protect Donatello from the hard knocks in life, just as Donatello freed Raphael from the technical challenges. But she knew that Donatello was more than capable of taking on the rough edges, with a maturity and grace lacking in all but Leonardo. Raphael may not have understood as much, but he wasn't leaving without answers.

"Raph, I don't know what to say. It was all just a terrible…mistake. If you want an answer, I have none to give you." She gripped her cup tightly and looked pensively into its depths "I just want this whole thing to be over."

A mistake was the least she could have described it as- she still wasn't sure if she were infuriated with Donatello's reaction, or relieved by its logic. But it had hurt, and it was a lingering pain that refused to go away, and she hadn't been able to face him since.

_"I know it's not…me." _He had told her.

The words burned her soul. Had he meant it? Was he right? The conflicting emotions that he brought about in her, and the stonewall he had met it with were driving her mad. How could she have been so wrong? All she knew was that she missed him like crazy - her strong, intelligent, remarkable friend. _Best friend_, she corrected. And something unspoken fluttered inside of her.

"Then you should tell him that. 'Cause I think he needs to hear it." Part of the reason he had come over was to fix this mess, it seemed that lately everything was falling apart. And now with April and Donatello not talking – he'd had enough.

Her eyes glistened, speaking to Raphael only made her realize how much she had missed Donatello.

"How is he?"

Raphael speculated on the answer, grasping to find the right words.

"Let's just say he's been fixing a lot of shit that ain't even broken." He finally decided.

April bowed he head, frowning. If there was ever a register to Donatello's internal ticking, it was evident in how much he busied himself in the lab - whether it be borne of his natural curious drive, or something more abstract. Like their falling out.

"W…why hasn't he contacted me?"

Raphael shrugged, "Y'know Don, if he thinks you want somethin', he listens. He doesn't think ya want ta see him, I guess."

Raphael didn't say it but part of him began to wonder if maybe Donatello had wanted it this way, like it was too hard for him to talk to her. He knew Donatello had feelings for her, for God's sake. It was as plain as day. Maybe Donatello had thought it was easier if he didn't see her a while, at least until the whole "_love_" thing blew over. He rubbed his hands roughly across his cheeks. This was getting way too complicated.

"Maybe he doesn't want to see me." She concluded quietly, as if she could read his thoughts.

Raphael disagreed, "April, he doesn't know what the hell he wants. That's half the problem."

"And that would make me the other half, then?" she said wryly

Raphael shrugged.

She breathed in slowly, her head reeling with this new information. All she had wanted to do was see him. _And punch him. _She thought._ And hug him. And_…Her mind stopped her there. She didn't want to think any further, that's what had started this mess in the first place.

"I would like very much to see him." she admitted.

Raphael had the feeling that this time he'd done something right. Not for the first time he wondered exactly who had said what to whom. It was suspiciously sounding more and more like one of them had finally grown the balls to admit their feelings. Obviously, that didn't end well. But something didn't add up…no way Donatello would say anything. And April? Just as unlikely, if she even felt that way about him. He ground his teeth at the enigma. In his mind things were taking far too long to mend and the sooner they returned to normal, the better. He could almost hear Leonardo riding him for being impatient.

"I'm glad to hear it." He said.

April exhaled, her mind spinning at a million miles an hour.

"I'll let him know." She said resolutely. A tiny flicker of happiness came up at the prospect.

She looked around at the slick white walls of her apartment, and then back down at lounge suite, covered in thick fawn colored velvet, where Raphael lay in a heap. It didn't feel like home anymore. Just a place she went to bed. A place where she would close her eyes every night and wish she weren't alone.

…

April had messaged him online, out of the blue, asking him to meet her. He had stared at the screen for a full ten minutes, tapping his pencil on the table as he tried to work out what to write back. Of course he wanted to see her; of course he wanted to meet. Just her message alone had thrilled him, to know that she was thinking about him. And as much as he knew it would slowly unravel him, the thought of not showing up seemed impossible.

_I'll be there._

He had written. And now here he was, at a large mains intersection closer to her apartment than the lair. The air was more chemically acrid here, definitely not as pungently fecundate as near the lair, the run-off here comprising largely of the settled exhaust pipe particulates from the millions of cars above. He unhooked his bo, and leaned on it expectantly.

_How can all this time have passed without seeing her? Without even talking to her? _he thought despondently_._

He felt lost without her, going through the motions of his life without it holding any meaning. In the back of his mind he had been telling himself it was for the best, but Leonardo had unnerved him, throwing into doubt everything he had believed. But an even stronger logical part of him still fought it, pushing down his desires deep inside. He tried to clear his mind and rid himself of the heaviness inside, as he waited for her to arrive.

He heard her, before saw her. The light steady steps of someone well versed in this particular tunnel. He knew the rhythm of her walk, and it was headed straight for him.

"_April._" He was stunned to the spot, his heart pumping furiously against his chest. He slipped his bo back onto his back.

She glanced up, looking for the source of his voice,

"Don, is that you?"

He could hear her feel her way along the shadowy curve of the wall, and then she was there, her hair falling down her shoulders and her eyes sparkling with delight. She began running to him, then before he knew it, she had thrown her arms around him, spinning them both around with the force, laughing in her beautiful melodic timbre. His senses rushed as he consumed her presence, his grey world previously drained of life was breathtakingly vivid again: the colors intense, the sounds crisper, her scent like honey, her touch like fire. His lungs gasped for air as if they hadn't been working without her, and he breathed deeply, a warm flush growing at his cheeks.

She fell back to the ground, and sobered up quickly, throwing a punch at his arm. Her expression flashed to anguish and he took the hit, mesmerized.

"I'm sorry." He pleaded, his eyes locked on hers. It felt like the only thing he could say. It was the only thing that mattered to him. "Please, April. I didn't mean to-"

Her head swayed slowly from side to side, but she did not remove her eyes from him.

"Nothing to forgive." She said, smiling. To her shock warm tears began running down her face. "This is weird." she laughed, brushing them away with the back of her hands, "I don't know why I'm crying. I'm happy to see you, I swear."

"Me too." He replied sincerely, choking back his own tears.

"This has just been the worst month…I just…I don't want it to be like that between us." She said, wiping away the last of her tears.

"Me neither." He replied, a lump forming in his throat. Happiness washed through him like a drug.

She brushed her damp hands against her jeans, and then held one toward him.

"Friends?"

He took it tenderly.

"Always." He promised.

She smiled joyously and it broke the void within him into a million pieces, and he knew then he was hers forever.

"So…how have you been?" she asked with a curious tip of her head, as if it had only been a day.

"I'm better now." He answered truthfully.

"Yeah, me too." She grinned.

The stood facing each other, momentarily transfixed by their delight. April dropped her gaze.

"You know, I was down at the street markets the other day and I bought something that reminded me of you.

"Don't tell me it's a book on medieval poetry, because I think I already own all of those." He joked, and she snorted in laughter.

"No, nothing like that. You have to take a look. C'mon." She grabbed his hands, and pulled him towards her, and began stepping towards the direction she had come from. He stumbled behind her, and then fell into her step.

"Can you tell me what it is, at least?" he asked. It felt as if no time had passed at all as they slipped back into their easy conversation.

"No! I can't tell you, it's a gift!"

"Okay then. I'll wait."

"Yeah, screw that. I'll give you twenty questions."

He shook his head, smiling, "You know I'm going to guess it."

"We'll see," she replied biting her lip in amusement, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye and could almost see the wheels in his head turning. "Or I could cut it down to ten questions to make it more challenging?"

"No, no, twenty's good." He said raising his hands.

Their steps echoed faintly down the tunnel in the dim afternoon light. A muddy water mark was streaked high above the water channels, low from the lack of rain, and the extra chamber space carried sound further than usual.

They had been walking for over ten minutes, his guesses at her gift circling in on an answer, when a distant sound caught his attention.

"_April_." He hissed. She whipped around to face him, and instantly noticed his alarmed expression, his head cocked to the side. She fell into silence. _What is it?_ Her expression seemed to say.

"We've got to move." He whispered.

He took her firmly by the hand and they began to pick up speed, running down the channels before quickly dodging into side tunnel.

_Go go go_

Her heart hammered as she heard faint footsteps getting louder and closer. Donatello spotted an outflow pipe and lifted her up before jumping up to join her. Half crouched they carefully made their way in the darkness. April was shaking, terrified.

"Keep going." He insisted in a whisper

They both ran, water splashing up onto their legs, their arm outstretched to feel the tunnel wall.

"April. Listen to me – it'll be okay. If they catch-up, just stay behind me and to my left. You got that?"

Her heart pounded "O-Okay. To..to the left." She said, breathing heavily, feeling along blindly as she ran.

"If we are near a ladder, go to the surface. Do not wait for me." They reached the pipes end and jumped into a large main. A shuriken zipped by.

"April, arms in." he shouted. She flattened her limbs to her side as and he jumped up behind her, protecting her body, as another two stars flew towards them and lodged into his back shell. He exhaled heavily with anger, and spun around, freeing his bo, and skidding back in the slush. April stepped back from him, her eyes wide with fear, and clambered behind him against the wall to his left.

Without warning two foot soldiers jumped from the outflow tunnel, coming at him from different angles. One brandishing a katana, the other whirling a meteor hammer by his side. Donatello blanked with fury, immediately going in on the offensive. He spun his bo and launched himself at the closest. The speed of his attack took the first soldier by surprise – his head making sickening crack as it connected with the wood, he slumped, the sword clattering to the ground. A chain suddenly whipped by Donatello, he twisted to try and avoid it but not enough, the spiked hammer striking his arm and spraying his blood. He hissed painfully and went in to sweep, but the man dodged nimbly, again throwing out his chain. Donatello slammed it to the ground with his bo, but the soldier took the precious seconds to fling out a shuriken at April. It flew past him in a whispered hiss and struck her. She made a small gasp of pain and fell to the ground, bleeding from her leg.

_NO!_

Something inside Donatello snapped. The soldier reeled in the chain back towards himself and quickly flung it back out with a roar, but this time Donatello was ready. He lifted his bo and caught the careening chain. It rapidly wrapped around the bo in a series of tight loops, locking on itself. He held the bo firmly and yanked hard, dragging the soldier towards him. The man gasped in fear. Donatello raised his bo, the spiked hammer now firmly strapped to it, and thrust it into the soldier's neck and ripping it open. Blood spurted as the man gargled a bloody scream. Donatello's face was set in a lethal grimace, his breathing heavy and his eyes pinpoints as the soldier's body dropped lifelessly on the ground. He quickly turned back to April, his face covered in blood.

"_Don!_" she gasped in shock. She looked at the battered and bleeding bodies of the foot soldiers next to them, stunned by his ferocity.

_She's scared of me_… he thought in panic.

"April, are you alright?" his voice was urgent and gentle. Her eyes wandered back to him, splattered in blood, and bleeding from a gash in his arm.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

Her wound was deep. She was clamping her hand down on the gouge, trying to maintain pressure, but blood had begun to seep through her fingers.

Donatello let the chain slip from his bo and fall into a jangling heap next to the owner's corpse. He swiftly made his way to April and slipped off his mask, tying it firmly over her bleeding wound. The makeshift tourniquet worked effectively.

"I'm sorry…they went after you because of me." he said, his heart hammering.

She looked up at him gratefully, eyes glistening with relief, "Don, you saved me." She wrapped her arms tightly around him, the blood covering him smearing onto her. She released her grip, her eyes tearing up, "If you weren't there..." she shut her eyes tightly, shaking badly, as the shock coursed through her.

He wiped some of the blood from her face, pushing a loose strand of her hair back tenderly, "I would never let anything happen to you." He said earnestly. "You know that, right?"

She nodded, her face twisting in pain as her wound throbbed angrily.

"We have to get you to the surface." He said grimly, picking her up in a swift motion. He moved quickly through the tunnels towards her apartment, holding her close. Adrenaline pumped through him, giving him a strength unknown. It was like he was carrying nothing at all.

…

Donatello had been pacing around April's apartment for hours. Since the moment Casey had taken her to emergency, the minutes had dragged on as he waited to hear news of her progress. Raphael sat nearby, reclined in the easy chair having joined him in the apartment. Casey had almost flipped when he had heard the news, and Raphael, who was over at Casey's, tagged along for the ride to check it out for himself. Donatello glanced at the time. It was already after one in the morning.

"She'll be fine." Raphael assured him.

Donatello nodded, his mind lost in thought.

"Relax, bro. A few stitches and she'll be kickin' yer ass for gettin' her into this mess."

Donatello shot Raphael a look that almost silenced him.

"Forget it. I was just tryin' ta lighten the mood." He grumbled. He appraised his brother covertly, noticing the strain etched into his face as he took step after step over the polished floorboards like it was some kind of ship and he was trying to find the plank.

"So, I heard you gave the foot a real serve." Raphael said with a sardonic grin. "Woulda loved to have seen that." He chuckled deviously, thrilled with the idea of someone stupid enough to cross Donatello while he was with April.

Donatello shook the observation away with a quick nod. He stopped by the window, peering out into the city, losing himself the endless windows of lights in the dark. His mind wandered to where she was, probably sitting in a hospital emergency room with Casey, somewhere that may as well have been a million miles away.

"I should be there with her."

Raphael settled back into his chair, arms crossed.

"Well, you can't."

Donatello looked down at his hand, grazed with the afternoon battle. He bunched it into a tight fist. He'd bleed for her a million times over, and yet he was powerless to help her in the world of humans, his mutation an abomination in their eyes. He felt the frustration rise into his throat.

"_Rrgh_." He cried, punching the wall. It left a deep crack. He shook his hand gingerly at the newly formed scrapes on his knuckles.

Raphael shot the hole in the wall an admiring glance.

"Just let me take the fall for that one, bro."

Donatello shook his head and exhaled deeply.

"No. I should fix it."

He walked into the kitchen where a bucket of warm bloody water and a wash cloth still sat atop the vinyl counter. His mask floated inside the bucket like a diaphanous sea creature, still stained with her blood. His stomach knotted at the sight. He had replaced her tourniquet with a far superior length of clean gauze when they had arrived back, but even he could see that she had lost a lot of blood. He bit his lip, trying not to dwell on the thought, and crouched to search under the kitchen sink for spackle, finding a small tub of it amongst the detergents and steel wool. He returned to the damaged wall, smothering on the paste and spreading it over the crack. The mindless task calmed him. Raphael watched with a curious expression.

"It's left over from when you threw your sai at Mikey." Donatello said, answering Raphael's unasked question.

"Well, I can punch out a few more if it gets ya to chill the fuck out." Raphael volunteered. He meant it, too.

Donatello evened the spackle one last time, smoothing it perfectly to the wall. He scraped the excess paste back into the tub and frowned at the patch-up.

"She's going to kill me." He said plainly.

"April ain't gonna do that. She did the same thing to Casey's truck 'cause she was pissed you couldn't go."

"What?" Donatello asked, looking back at him.

"When ya ran back up to grab her cell." He explained.

Raphael mimed his fist raising up and banging down on the armchair rest.

"_Pow_. And it dented the hood. Ya shoulda seen Case's face." He said, laughing. Donatello snorted in amusement as Raphael wiped away a tear, "She's a freakin' pistol, that one."

The knot inside Donatello let up a little. He had been so concerned about his own inability to join her that he had completely forgotten to take in April's perspective. It would not be easy, he imagined, for the poor souls on the other end to face her fiery anger when she didn't get her way.

He rested his head wearily in his hands. "Why tonight?"

He had just reunited with her after all these weeks and it had literally ended up in a bloody mess. She could have been killed. All because she had chosen to see him. And because he was too weak to say no. The thought buzzed in his head like an angry wasp. _This is my fault_…he thought, the fury at himself flaring up.

"You gotta stop torturin' yerself, bro. There's nothin' you can do about it."

He looked down at Donatello leaning anxiously against the wall. That was going to be a hell of a pill for him to swallow.

Suddenly, Donatello's cell started buzzing. He hastily flipped it open.

"April?"

"Don!" she replied happily, although something seemed a little off kilter, "I'm so glad I got a hold of you. I'm happy you're there, did I tell you that? So, I am still in the hospital and I told them I fell into the sewer." She giggled, "I fall in _quite_ a lot, right? It only cost fifteen stitches… but the weirdest thing happened…a leprechaun wants to run a marathon with me in a month's time, so get your trainers out in because I am going to-"

Casey's voice interrupted her in the background,

"Yo April, you better gimme that." He said, as he took the phone from her.

"Hey." Casey's voice came from the other end.

"Hi." Donatello responded hesitantly, "How is she?"

"Yeah, good. Doped up on some painkillers or somethin'. They wanna keep her in fer observation though, 'cause the cut's pretty bad. So. Yeah, man. I got it from here." Casey snapped the phone shut.

Donatello stared at the dead line in his hand, frustrated by Casey's abrupt cut-off.

"_Well?_" Raphael prodded after several moments.

Donatello nodded vaguely,

"Yeah, she's okay."

Raphael gave a relieved sigh, and swept his feet up onto the couch.

"See, buddy? I told ya. Nothin' to worry about."

Donatello frowned with mild amusement, "But apparently she's running a marathon with a leprechaun next month."

Raphael snickered,

"She should enjoy the drugs while she has 'em." He said emphatically. "Cause god knows it's gonna sting like a bitch tomorrow. Casey still there?"

"Yeah. He's still with her." A dark look came over his face, and he twisted the cell round and round in his hands, trying to keep them busy as Casey's words malingered in his mind. He desperately wished he could be there for her. But he couldn't, and he ached for the part of her he couldn't have.

"What's blowin' up yer ass, now?"

"It's nothing." Donatello replied quietly. He was in no mind to discuss this.

Raphael watched as the worry gnawed away at his brother, and took a deep breath as he prepared to unload something that had been weighing on his mind for months, something only made unmistakably apparent to him tonight. When he had arrived at April's with Casey, his brother had still been covered in blood, and for a very brief moment he was scared that Donatello had been badly hurt. When he had found out about the violent Foot bloodbath massacre he had unleashed just to protect her, something clicked in his mind.

'_He really loves her_.' He realized. And it wasn't just some dead-end crush, something he could turn off or something that would fade away. It was the real deal.

He also could not help but notice April – bleeding from a deep gash above her knee, badly rattled… but glowing. She was constantly looking to Donatello when he spoke, or smiled, or _anything_, just enraptured with his presence. Such a change from when Raphael had visited her three nights previous. Casey had picked up on this too, he was sure, but to his credit kept the situation in his stride. It would have been too easy for him to have pointed the finger at Donatello, but he knew that if he did that, he would be in effect blaming all of them for living below… and there was no way he was getting away with that call. What a change. Most likely because he quit drinking several weeks back, Raphael reasoned, physically throwing the last empty bottle of Jack into the alley to smash on the ground below. There was no doubting Casey was cold towards Donatello, but he hadn't let it get to him like he had on previous encounters with his brother. It was as if despite their misgivings they had a common goal, to keep April happy. But Raphael could see exactly _who_ made her happy. He sighed heavily.

"Donnie. I gotta tell you somethin'…so just shutup and listen for a sec, willya."

Donatello shrugged impassively, and waited.

"I was wrong." Raphael admitted, "About you and April."

The words were hard for him to get out, and as much as he avoided apologies and goodbyes, it felt freeing to him in this instance. He stared at the ground, frowning, as he grappled with the words.

"I had no place to tell ya what to do."

Donatello gave his brother a dissecting stare. After several moments, it relaxed.

"I appreciate that." He replied. He turned his head to peer back through the window, legs crossed in front of him, "But like I said, there's nothing there to worry about."

"Yeah, right." Raphael grumbled, dissatisfied with his reaction.

Donatello turned his analytical lens onto his brother.

"Look at me, Raph. I can't even take her to the hospital. Let alone stay there with her while they keep her overnight. I just have to sit here and _wait_ until Casey brings her back." All he wanted was to hold her hand, and tell her she'd be okay. It seemed like such a simple thing. An impossibly simple thing.

Raphael raised his arms in surrender.

"All I know is, when _you're_ around bro, she lights up like a Christmas tree."

"Then you're seeing things." He said.

"Ah-huh." Raphael replied derisively, his eyes narrowing.

"Anyway...Casey-"

"What about him?" Raphael cut in. "You're my _brother_, Donnie."

The simplicity of Raphael's argument stunned him.

"It doesn't matter anyway." Donatello said quietly, "Not after today."

"Give her credit, Donnie. She's a tough chick."

"It's just the way it has to be, Raph." He felt sick saying it. The way he _wanted_ it to be, that was a different story. One he dared not open the book of anymore.

"Sure. You're right and I'm wrong." Raphael said sarcastically. "I don't know anythin'." He had said his piece and was through with the explanations. He stretched his arms back and locked his fingers behind his head. He was getting drowsy.

Donatello couldn't relax; his mind was firing off frenetically, thinking back to the highs of the day, of April's embrace, and then back to the contaminated lows with the Foot. Just as they had found each again, she was taken away. He jumped back up and began pacing, trying to erode away the tension.

"If you don't stop doin' that," Raphael said from beneath closed eyes, "I'll send _you_ to the hospital."

"Sorry, Raph." He said distractedly.

Not knowing what else to do, he walked back into the kitchen and started to clean up the smeared blood, thinking that if nothing else, it would keep him busy. He peered around at the aftermath of this day. His damaged bo sat propped against the fridge, and the two shuriken dislodged from his shell had been discarded atop a pile of junk mail, like forgotten artifacts of his violent battle. And April was nowhere to seen, badly hurt and far from home within the comfort of her ex's arms. His own arm, bound tight over his injury, stung mightily, but it was the furthest thing from his mind as he sopped up the reddish mixture of their blood from the counter, wringing it out in the soapy water.


	6. THE MOUNTAIN

A/N: Apologies for the delay, I've been writing things out of order and things got a little out of control...updates should be more consistent from now on. Thank-you for your patience.

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6. THE MOUNTAIN

There was a light jangle of keys at door to April's apartment. Donatello heard the lock twist and the mechanism free, and his eyes snapped open. The door quietly creaked ajar. There was shuffling, then a light double tap as April entered on crutches, mail awkwardly held between her finger. She closed the door behind her using her crutch, and carefully navigated her way inside in a series of steps, swings and clicks.

Raphael was sound asleep and stretched out on the sofa. He rolled to lift his head, and slowly opened his eyes, still red with slumber.

"Nice crutches." He said groggily. He blinked once more, then fell back down and resumed snoring, his body rising and falling with a steady rhythm.

"You're back." Donatello whispered.

He had fallen asleep on the floor, his head resting against the wall, and his shoulders twinged from the awkward position. He stood slowly, bones crackling like a fire as he tilted his neck to stretch it, and walked over to her.

April removed the mail from her hand and placed it quietly on the table.

"Don!" she breathed. She rested her crutches against her body and slipped her hands beneath his arms, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his heart pounding with relief. The pads of her fingertips clung tightly to his shoulders, and he nearly buckled at the sensation.

"You're still here." She said. The last twenty four hours had been a whirlwind. All she had wanted to do was see him and it had spiraled out into a complete mess. Finally it felt they had come full circle. He could feel her breath, warm against his plastron, and wisps of her hair brushing lightly against his shoulders. They stood together, embraced, as the flow of energy passed seamlessly between them.

_You're safe_…

He released her gently, his body aching for her heat, and glowered in concern.

"I was waiting for you." He said quietly. "I was worried. I didn't think you'd come back like this."

"Yeah." She whispered with a disarming grin, "I look great, don't I?" She carefully sat down as he held her hand steady, positioning herself to favor her left leg. He took her crutches and rested them by her against the table.

"You said you have stitches?" He pulled out the adjacent chair and joined her.

"Yeah, have a look." She lifted her skirt a little to reveal a clean white bandage that had been tightly wrapped around her knee and up her thigh. "The stitches go from here," she pointed to the edge of her knee cap, "all the way to here." She traced an upward arc and ended around in the tender part just above the back of her knee.

A spark of fury crossed him as the image of her falling from the shuriken strike flashed into his mind. He felt as if he could kill that foot soldier again. Slower. His jaw set tightly, and he looked back up at her, his face wrought with guilt.

"April, I am so sorry. This never should have happened."

"This is not your fault, so don't you dare apologize for it." She said firmly. He looked haunted, and she knew he wouldn't accept the forgiveness so easily. _You saved me_, she wanted to tell him, but it seemed like such an inadequate way to say what he had done for her.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Yeah." She brushed her hands lightly over the bandage, barely skimming it. "It stings like crazy, but the stitches should be removed in a few weeks if I don't aggravate it too much."

She looked across at his upper arm where he had been struck. It was bound tightly but blood had seeped through the layers of gauze. Her concern immediately shifted.

"How are _you_?" she asked reaching for his arm. She gently maneuvered it closer to her, her eyes roving over his firm skin, marked plenty with other thin scars. She could tell by the darkness of the blood on the bandage that it had at least stopped bleeding.

"It's okay." He told her. "Raph stitched it up last night. It wasn't that bad, just a few grazes."

Raphael had been surprisingly good at stitching up the damage, he had practiced enough on himself to perfect the technique, Donatello supposed. The spikes from the meteor hammer had gouged out multiple slashes along his arm, and he had required three rows of four stitches each. _No aspirin_, Raphael had said between rows as he tried clumsily to re-thread the needle, _it'll bleed worse. _He had poured rubbing alcohol over the whole thing afterwards, which in his opinion was far more painful.

April felt a surge of injustice – it wasn't right that he wasn't able to join her at the hospital, she thought bitterly. She slipped her hand down his forearm and squeezed his hand. He glanced at her with a steady reserve.

"Oh, Don." She whispered. "With my leg and your arm, we make quite the pair." They stared briefly at each other with straight faces, and then both started chuckling in a hushed tone.

From the sofa Raphael suddenly released a loud ragged snore and the pair looked at each other, again stifling their laughter.

"Try being in the room next to him." He said, raising his brow.

She snorted a laugh back, holding her pale hands over her mouth as her eyes crinkled in merriment.

"No wonder you were sleep walking, you were probably trying to get some peace." April giggled. Her hair had fallen across her face, and her cheeks were flushed from her laughter.

Donatello looked at her, his eyes glimmering with desire. God, she was beautiful.

"Something like that." He said quietly.

They held each others attention within a silent moment of contentment. A banging at the door interrupted them and they both swiveled their heads to the intrusion.

April turned back to him, a flicker of alarm crossing her.

"It's Casey." She explained quickly.

Donatello felt cold inside. He hopped up, knowing she was in no position to move about, and freed the lock, swinging the door open. Casey stood in the entrance, momentarily surprised by who was greeting him. He was still wearing his shirt, stretched out sweat pants, and had one foot casually hooked behind his leg.

"Uh, hey." He said with a non-committal lift of his head, he reached back and hitched his pants up higher. "Um, April's here, right?"

"Yeah."Donatello replied, realizing he was still blocking the door. He moved aside and let him in. Casey strutted towards April, hollow rings under his eyes.

"I only had to park a hundred miles away." He grumbled. "Friggin' city hall morons."

He turned his head and spotted Raphael asleep on the sofa. His eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together.

April immediately detected his ploy, "Casey - no!" she whispered harshly.

He ignored her and he quickly bounded over to his slumbering friend.

"_Raphie Boy!_" he shrieked, launching himself into the air. He landed on him with a thump, and Raphael sprung awake.

"What the _FUCK_!" Raphael screamed groggily. They both rolled then crashed onto the ground, as Casey tried to pin him down.

"Get offa me, ya freakin' idiot!" Raphael shouted loudly.

Casey, in the midst of victory, snarled his conditions:

"Say uncle, blowfly breath!"

Raphael's eyes narrowed venomously.

"You wish." He growled.

Casey tried twisting Raphael's arm with a whoop of delight, but he underestimated his friend's pure strength. He hoisted Casey up with a flip and twisted around, slamming his elbow down into his abdomen. Casey's dark hair flicked back as his head jerked forward, his eyes widening in agony.

"_OMPH_!" he groaned. The two continued to wrestle, banging into the furniture.

April gave an infuriated sigh and laid her hand flat upon the table, as if bracing herself for the tussle to move closer. Her crutches jittered against the table with each crash into the furniture.

"You might want to hang on to those." Donatello suggested. April shook her head disbelievingly.

"I swear I'm going to throw them over there in a minute. My downstairs neighbor already has it in for me."

Donatello smirked at her threat- he had no doubt she would do it if pushed. He looked back down at his brother and Casey, rolling around on the ground like a couple of playful mutts. When they were like this they were physically impossible to tear apart with anything short of a fire hose. He'd tried once before and ended up being dragged in and pounded on by the both of them when they had ganged up and decided he was the common enemy. Those bruises lasted weeks.

"I'll put some coffee on and we can get out of your hair." He offered kindly.

"Coffee sounds really…_really_ great." She glanced over at Casey crashing around with Raphael and lowered her eyes, "We can talk properly later, okay?" she said in a voice only Donatello could hear.

He nodded. Part of him felt sick. _I should have known_, he scolded himself. What else could he have expected when she had been thrust into the arms of Casey? By himself, no less. It doesn't matter anyway, he reminded himself. He was her friend, and that's all it could be. So, he decided to act like it.

"April, if you need anything, you let me know – groceries, a ride, anything. Just keep your leg rested."

_BANG!_

Casey's voice hollered out above the commotion. "You are gonna _pay_ fer that!"

"Thank you." she mouthed, the strain in her eyes now apparent.

Donatello went to the stove and turned on the kettle. He waited in front of it, calming himself in the sound of the rolling boil of the water. Just as things had stepped forward, they had taken another gigantic step back. And he was responsible for it all.

…

It was after training earlier in the day that Splinter had requested Donatello's aid at his garden. Thinking that this may have had to do with fixing the water feature he had installed, Donatello grabbed a litany of mismatched tools including some rubber hosing, string, and sealant. He threw the items in a sturdy sack, slung it across his body, and began the short trek to the garden's hidden location.

From the lair he made his way down a corridor that shot off at an oblique angle, from which the path took a narrow, unassuming tunnel, terminating above an outflow pipe only two stories down from the surface and less than a hundred yards away from their home.

Over two years before his brothers and he had broken through a wall to gain access to the space, which aside from ventilation ducts, had been completely sealed off. Donatello had set up an arrangement of mirrors to allow in natural light, and had even installed a floating light, suspended by wires from the high ceiling. Afterwards they had reconstructed a false wall so that it remained virtually undetectable. They had found this place in a very old city planning map, and had surprised their master with the bare bones of the garden: the lights and the soil. It had been his favorite birthday gift to date.

"Sensei?" he said to the wall.

"Please, come in my son." His father answered, the sound muffled by cement.

Donatello pushed in the false wall and entered the exquisite court yard garden. He had not seen it in over a year, having being reserved as a private refuge for Splinter, and was more than a little curious to see how it had fared.

"Wow." He breathed, turning his head around.

Bamboo had since shot up against the wall; bright green cylinders that sprouted pennant shaped leaves dappling the shafts of light that entered from above. Soft green moss encroached onto the pale pebbles that covered the ground, and blushing azaleas popped up amongst the sprays of ferns. Small shrubs added a mid height fullness to the garden, filling the space vertically. Closer toward the back corner a deep stone basin shimmered as the simple bamboo spout he had installed trickled in drops of water. The sound of the flowing water was cool and soothing.

"This is extraordinary, sensei." He said admiringly, mentally he was listing some of the botanical specimens in his head – a fragile Japanese maple, the grassy tufts of calamus, the soft contrasting cover of chickweed, and the robust beauty of snowrose, the tree of a thousand stars. Over the last few years they had known Splinter had been collecting seedlings, and to see them flourishing was a spectacle to behold. "You must be glad it's finally finished."

Splinter sat kneeling on a tatami mat, raised off the ground on a wide and low wooden bench.

"Finished?" Splinter left the word hanging in the air like a mote. He placed his feet on the earth, and hoisted himself up with his walking stick. "A garden is like being a father. It is something that never finishes."

Donatello looked at his master evenly,

"Then you must be occasionally tempted to wipe everything out and start afresh, father." He said.

Splinter's whiskers twitched mischievously.

"Occasionally."

Donatello stifled a chortle, trying to maintain the tranquil beauty of the garden. He shifted slightly to the left and noticed the stone lantern that April had presented him last year on his birthday, perched inconspicuously between a collection of large stones. Its flared roof added a touch of authentic Shinto beauty to the garden. He had helped her carry it down into the sewers, and remembered her excitement at being able to give it to their master.

"You said you needed some help with something, sensei?" Donatello said.

Splinter's head gave a slight nod, eyes twinkling.

"Yes, my son. I was hoping for your opinion on something."

Donatello was taken aback – he couldn't quite recall Splinter asking his opinion on anything before. His technical expertise, maybe, but otherwise it had always been clear to him that he was the student and Splinter was the teacher. Or the 'taskmaster', as Michelangelo would sometimes snigger behind his back. Their physiques and ninjutsu skills were certainly a testament to that.

"Of course, sensei." He answered hesitantly.

Splinter took a moment, observing the garden from his new position.

"I have often likened your spirit to a mountain, Donatello. Your intelligence and stability are unequaled amongst your brothers."

He stepped towards the center of the courtyard.

"This stone here, do you know what it is?" Splinter prodded his cane forward pointing to a large jagged stone placed upright on its axis.

Donatello head clicked over. All he could see was its geology.

"That is an igneous rock, sensei." He replied, "It's a piece of holyoke basalt we quarried out near Casey's farm."

Splinter glanced back at him with a modicum of surprise.

"Is it? Well, yes, that must be true. But within the confines of a garden and when it is placed so, it can also be seen to represent a mountain. Tell me, do you believe it to be positioned well?"

Donatello frowned. He was not good at these sorts of things. The spiritual alignment of rocks had held little interest to him apart from adding to his rolodex of trivia. Leonardo, he was sure, would probably be suggesting other possible arrangements already.

"Uh, I can't say, sensei. It seems alright?" If Splinter was trying to make a point, he was lost at what he was getting at.

Splinter nodded again.

"And where would you place it, if the choice was yours?"

From his vague recollections of Zen placement he recalled things like positive and negative space, odd numbered groupings and displaying of the most attractive aspects of the stone. These all seemed like technical things that had already been achieved and didn't know how to expand upon them. Donatello looked around the serene garden, even the air seemed cooler and sweeter in here. From the pebbly floor to the flushes of blossoms to the thin bamboo reeds reaching for the chamber's ceiling…it all seemed so perfectly balanced and he was more than reluctant to disrupt its harmonious asymmetry.

"I don't think it should be moved." he said, frowning. The truth was he didn't know.

Splinter exhaled, and patiently tried again.

"Do not think, my son. Try to listen to what is inside."

Donatello took a deep breath and looked again, this time spotting a small cluster of irises blooming near the stone water basin. He felt his heart skip.

Splinter followed the line of his gaze.

"That would be an interesting spot, indeed." He said, wrapping his hand across the other and leaning forward on his cane.

"Ah…I guess." Donatello responded uncertainly. "But it really is fine where it is, sensei."

"Is that so?"

_The question that's not a question. _Donatello thought. _Leonardo literally learned from the master_. He could feel stress rise up into his chest. Why did he bring his tools, again? He tried to focus on the murmur of the running water but all it did was make him feel divided in his decision. The sound of the water called to him as it trickled over the basins edge and watered the irises below.

Donatello nodded.

"Yes." He answered.

"That is a shame." Splinter tutted, "Now I will never know if the chi would have been improved. But perhaps it is for the best. Mountains are not often known for their movement."

Donatello shook his head and held his arm out in protest, feeling oddly rebuked.

"I just didn't want to throw off the flow in here, sensei. It all seems so…_balanced_."

Splinter regarded this sentiment, with a quick flick of his tail.

"And is that how you feel right now? Balanced?" Splinter inquired gently.

Donatello had been called out. He was stunned into silence.

"No, sensei." He said at length, "I don't."

Splinter remained quiet, as if adjusting to this new information. Finally he spoke.

"It is my hope as a father that my sons find a measure of harmony in their lives. Sometimes this path will come at a great risk, and that it may seem the consequences are too high. But to live in the shadow of such internal oppression can only bring darkness into your heart."

He swept his hands across the space.

"Like this garden even the most subtle of changes can bring forth an unexpected beauty. Plants will grow, plants will die, and new ones will replace them, and only the certainty of change will restore a new balance once again.

"I have always strived to do what is best for this family. To protect them. To keep them safe from those above that would mean us harm. But I will not be here forever. And neither shall you. To paint our destiny in ink is folly. It is something I have meditated on frequently, and something that has taken me far too long to accept. I cannot keep you all under a jar forever in hope you may never want to leave for fear of its retributions. I can only hope each step beyond it lets in a little more light than it releases, and for a new harmony to be attained."

"I trust in you, my son. I know you would never willingly put our family in harms way. My only hope is that you find light, balance and harmony in your life. For without these things, what kind of life is it?"

Donatello broke out in a light sweat, his head turbulent with emotion. Had Splinter just told him to do what makes him happy, that he _trusted _him? With _what_ exactly? His mind immediately thought of April, and he felt heady with exhilaration. But the torment inside flared up stronger than ever.

_For her_…a voice whispered.

Splinter stopped and looked back at his son, sensing his energy in a maelstrom. With an expert touch, he tried to quell it.

"I was watching a nature program after my stories last week. Are you aware that there is evidence of sea life on Mount Everest?" he asked with a delighted twinkle.

Donatello broke away from his spinning thoughts.

"Uh…yeah. I've read things about the fossils up there." Donatello replied, his confusion growing.

"Fascinating." he mused. Splinter tapped forward with his cane, shuffling himself closer to the water feature.

"One last thing, my son."

Splinter procured a pair of shears from his ancient robe, and stooped down to where the irises were growing. He gathered a handful of the flowers with a quick succession of snips and bundled them together.

He shuffled back, admiring the subtle alteration of the landscape with the absence of those flowers.

"Such a minor change, but the effect is nonetheless remarkable." Splinter said, slipping the shears back inside his pocket.

All but a small handful of the iris flowers had been removed. The newly exposed grassy green stems blended impeccably with the surrounding moss and slate colored grain and of the basin. Splinter turned back to Donatello.

"Please give these to Miss O'Neil, sending my wishes for her speedy recovery."

_Irises…_ he thought, his heart unexpectedly warming.

Donatello took the delicate purple-blue blossoms from his master.

"April will like these very much, sensei." He answered, with a respectful bow of his head. He was sure of it. They were her favorite flower.

…


	7. HATCHET JOBS

A/N: Part 7, this one is for the Casey fans (or not, depending on how you feel about it), with even more D&A in chap 8 just around the corner - for reals, it should be up within days. Please enjoy, and as ever, reviews are greatly appreciated.

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7. HATCHET JOBS

April took the bouquet from Donatello, beaming. "These are beautiful. Please thank Master Splinter for me."

"I'll let him know."

He had arrived moments earlier. It was still early in the evening, the city abuzz with activity and he had slipped in through the fire exit, dodging the busy thoroughfare into her apartment complex. April had greeted him fondly, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. She was still dressed in her work attire, her security pass hanging from her neck beneath her navy jacket. The moment she spotted the flowers she had broke out into a glowing smile.

She closed her eyes and inhaled their bitter fresh scent, a flush of pleasure coming to her face.

"I'll get some water for them."

April gently sat the irises down on the counter and began to make her way into the kitchen with a swing of her crutches.

"Let me do it. Please." He demanded. She stopped and let him pass her.

"It's in the cupboard by the sink...thanks, Donnie."

"Found it." He pulled out the crystal vase and filled it with the tepid tap water.

She watched him, the ease and grace of his movement, and sighed in frustration.

"I won't miss these." She said holding a crutch out to the side of her. She swung over to the kitchen table and took a seat, "You know, I almost cried when I had to go up a flight of stairs today. It's funny how you don't really appreciate something until you don't have it."

"The stitches come out soon, right?" he asked from the kitchen.

"Yeah, and I can ditch the crutches before that, even. I'm positively counting down the seconds!" there was a manic edge of joy in her voice.

He returned moments later and she settled stems into the water, letting the purple petals reach elegantly from their crystal base. Donatello admired the arrangement. She was right, they were beautiful. April's eyes wandered over them, a small secretive smile coming to her face as she reached out and touched a silky petal with her fingertip.

"Are these from the garden?" she inquired softly.

He nodded.

"Yeah." Donatello felt his own heart warm as his mind flashed to the cluster of irises set neatly beside the trickling water in his master's sanctuary. They had drawn him instinctively, just like she had.

"I've got something for you, too." he eventually said, "It's a get well gift also, but I think the flowers stole my thunder."

She focused back on him with a playful grin.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a sweet gesture and you didn't even have to." she cocked an eyebrow, "Hit me."

Donatello chuckled, reached into his satchel and brought out an oblong shaped package, the size of a book, along with a card. April took them from him and opened the envelope with a flick of her little finger. Her eyes quickly scanned the inscription.

_April,_

_You're a massive pain. Get well soon._

_Don_

She held the card back from her, visibly affronted, "Ah, thanks? I think?"

He tipped his head towards the gift. April gave him a wary look then nimbly ripped up the tape from the polar ends of the package and unwrapped the red paper from it. A book? She read the title.

"Oh no, you _didn't_." she said suppressing a grin. She twisted it around, showing him the cover, "Poetry of the Medieval Greats?" she read aloud.

It finally occurred to her what his message had meant…

"My pain is beautiful? The poetry clue from the crossword? _That's_ why I'm a massive pain?" she burst out laughing. "Okay, _very_ funny, smart guy." She swatted his leg with the book, and bit down on her lower lip as the giggles erupted forth, her face reddening with merriment.

"Totally worth it." He grinned.

April began flickering randomly through the pages, small tufts of air blowing wisps of her hair by her face.

"I really did like that poem, though." She muttered to herself. Every so often she would stop at a page, catch a line, and smile.

"It's great. Thank you." she said with an incredulous shake of her head.

Donatello watched her, a tender feeling of love in his chest. God help him, he had really meant it. She _was_ his pain; his beautiful, unrelenting pain. And now that Casey was back in the picture, it was more hopeless than ever. Out of all the people in the world, why Casey? What did she see in him? He tried distracting himself, glancing over the far wall to where her window peeked out into the city, his mind wandering to the red and gold chains of lights moving along the roads.

"Are you staying for something to eat? I've got some work results here that I'd love to pick your brain over."

Donatello mind snapped back into the room.

"Ah…I'd love to but I can't. Leo wanted us for some kind of recon later tonight. I guess the foot finally have our attention."

_And all it took was for you to get attacked_, he thought, wishing he had heeded Splinter's warnings more closely.

She pressed the book shut and sat it down, a look of concern in her eyes.

"Please be careful. You're still hurt."

"This?" he pointed to his bandage on his arm, "This is nothing." He offered a lopsided grin in reassurance, and April felt the stirrings of protectiveness inside. Casey and Raphael used to put her through the wringer whenever they were dosing out their brand of vigilante justice. This she could admit was not quite the same - Donatello was a level headed and dedicated team member, his mental clarity vital to their success, but were anything to happen, she could not imagine how she would cope.

"Just be safe, Donnie."

"I will. Don't worry. And if you like I can take a look at your work notes tomorrow."

If it were up to him, he would be going nowhere. One of his favorite things in the world was just going through her day with her, her work fascinating to him, the way she _thought_ fascinating to him. Plus the study of artificial intelligence, and its application to pharmaceutical research - what wasn't there to love?

April held him in her gaze, finally releasing a shudder of tension.

"I can't tomorrow. Casey's around."

"Ah. Well, maybe another night then." He rested his elbows on his thighs and casually folded his hands together, trying to appear unaffected as his insides writhed uneasily.

"Listen, Don. About Casey…"

Donatello held his hands back up. He really did not want to hear the sordid details. It was hard enough knowing they had rekindled their relationship.

"It's not my business." he said quickly.

"What? He's here for the rest of the week, but-"

"It's okay. You don't owe me an explanation." he made to stand, unable to take the torture. "I should go anyway, the others will be expecting me back soon." a weak smile was plastered on his face, and April reached out for him in alarm. She placed her hand on his, firm and cool.

"Will you please sit and listen to me?" she begged.

He obeyed her like a hound, his face unreadable. April took a moment, gathering her thoughts as she tried to dispel his distress.

"Casey has been really great taking me to appointments, but I didn't ask him. He insisted. He said he owed me one or two, and between you and I, that count is higher. Remember the time he came back with Raphael and had a gunshot wound? Or when his jaw broken by some crony down at Singh's? Or the second degree burns from that flamethrower he was attempting to use?"

He nodded. This was not making things better in his mind.

"Guess who hauled him off to the hospital those times?" she let out a deep breath, "Look, I know you and he will never be close. But it'd mean a lot if some day you two could stand being in the same room together. He's not a bad guy, Don. Just…misguided."

"April, I don't think it's a good idea. I'd just get in the way."

She looked at him askance, "What are you talking about?"

Donatello felt an intense pressure building up inside as he tried to work out what she was unsure about. Was he really going to have to say it? He felt his neck burn in discomfort.

"I, ah, thought you and he were…back together."

April released a disheartened sigh, "I see."

Her gaze shifted to the table, "I ordered Casey to get some rest after he and Raphael finally broke up their little rough and tumble the other day. He slept for eight hours straight." She looked back to him, trying to catch his eye, "On the _couch_. Which is where, incidentally, he'll be spending the next few nights while his apartment is being fumigated."

The _couch?_ He had it figured all wrong. _Idiot,_ he scolded himself, _jumping to conclusions like some second rate scientist._

"Oh." He nodded, maintaining a very calm exterior, "That's…"

…_wonderful?_

"something." He finished cryptically.

April laughed, "You don't have to be so protective, Don. I can handle myself."

Donatello shot her a curious look. She thought he was just being protective? That was only half the story.

_If only she knew_, he thought, _she'd never look at me the same. She'd probably throw me out in disgust. _And Leonardo had wanted him to just lay it all on the table with her. Well, that wasn't going to happen. No matter what Splinter had said about that unmoving rock, no matter what Leonardo had said about open honesty, no matter what his brothers imagined was there. The risk was too high. To lose this friendship on a dead-end hope, or to destroy her chances of a real life… he couldn't do it. Those were the stakes, and he had already made his claim.

"There's something different about him." April said contemplatively, her voice breaking into his thoughts, "I know it wasn't very obvious from the other day, but that night at the hospital…he really came through. I feel like he's changing. For the better this time."

"Raphael mentioned something about it." Donatello agreed, the pit of his stomach suddenly tight again. Maybe he wasn't wrong after all, that her residual feelings for her ex would reignite before his eyes. And what could do but watch it burn before him?

April raised her brows in surprise, "Yeah, he told me he quit drinking. I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"You're not the only one." Donatello agreed softly.

She propped her elbow up on the table and rested her head on her hand, deep in thought about this unexpected turn from Casey. A moment passed and she glanced up at him hopefully.

"I guess people can change?" she said.

Donatello remembered that look from when Casey and April had been dating, the one that wanted him to see what she did in Casey.

"Anything's possible." He dropped his eyes to stare at the irises.

Was it really that simple? And if Casey could change, why not him? He speculated as to what he'd even begin to rectify. There were many things, _so _many things he would change, starting with his unrelenting passion for her. To truly let her go and set her free from his heart. To allow her the chance of happiness come to pass without even a blip registering with him. But if he could just switch off his feelings for April, would he ever really want to?

_In an instant_, he thought.

But then he flinched. He would rather die feeling like this than the emptiness he had felt without her. He would hold onto it unspoken for the rest of his days before that; wield it until it was no more than a ghostly whisper he could ignore. The image of Splinter's mountain rock flashed into his mind and the sound of trickling water pervaded his senses.

_No_…_it means nothing_, he thought, his teeth clenching, _I know what I'm doing._

Donatello slumped in his seat, suddenly feeling the intense weight of his burden. It was as if lead had replaced his blood, coursing toxically throughout his body, holding him captive to the spot. He slowly stood, trying to conceal the sway in his legs.

"I better be going or Leo's going to ream me for being late. You take care, Miss O'Neil." Donatello said kindly. She nodded sadly, disappointed that he could not stay.

"You too, Donnie."

April watched as he silently slipped back out into the night leaving no sign but a gentle fluttering of the curtains.

...

The night was cool and dark, the lights from the city reflecting off the clouds and offering a meager amount of visibility - the perfect night for a recon mission. Donatello and Michelangelo had partnered together as Leonardo and Raphael went ahead, scouting the rooftops. They waited by an old ventilation unit for Leonardo to signal them forward.

"What's April up to?" Michelangelo asked casually, hoping there was free food in it for him somewhere. He was crouched down by the unit and had rested his hand on it for support.

"Work. And Casey's over tomorrow night." He answered shortly.

Michelangelo swiveled back to face him.

"Whoa, and ya not worried about that?" he asked, his breath misting in the cool air.

Donatello felt a clenching in his stomach. He had been wrong about Casey and April being back together, but for how long?

"Why would I be?" he replied evenly. He tilted his chin forward, motioning Michelangelo keep looking ahead.

Within moments they spotted Leonardo signalling them forward and they began to sprint. Donatello jumped the deep gap between buildings, soaring the distance, landing lightly on the other side. Michelangelo sailed past him, going into a ducking roll. He ended up on his feet and they continued running along the weather battered cement panels that lined the roof, splashing in the shallow puddles that had collected on their uneven surfaces.

Michelangelo twisted around and ran backwards to face him, "You know Casey - subtle as an axe..." He twisted back around. "…with a chainsaw attached to it. He'll be putting on the moves so fast she'll probably end up breaking her other leg." He confided with an evil grin.

"If that's what she wants, I don't exactly have any say in it."

"You are _such_ a liar." he chuckled.

Michelangelo sprung across to the next building, clinging onto the safety railing and flipping himself over onto the roof. Donatello followed distractedly, leaping out across the distance but barely latching onto the metal bars on the other side. He gasped, his face flashing with fear as he dangled above the precarious drop. The gashes on his arm ached as his muscles strained to hold on and scramble to get up. Michelangelo quickly ran back and grabbed onto him, hauling him over with a heave. They both fell flat onto the cold roof, panting.

"Thanks." Donatello said puffing strenuously. Michelangelo must have thrown him off a little. "But say if I was… what could I do about it anyway?"

"I could think of something." Michelangelo snickered.

Donatello shot him an unamused look and got back onto his feet. They silently approached the far edge of the building and saw Raphael urging them forward with a brisk wave of his arm.

"Oh, Raphie's pissed about something." Michelangelo sniggered.

"Yeah, we're talking too much and running too little, probably."

Donatello and Michelangelo picked up their pace, clambering down the fire escape and leaping to guttering of the adjacent block. They quickly climbed to the roof and looked out for their brothers from near the cornerstone, the cool air tousling their mask tails. Michelangelo tapped his nunchucks impatiently as they waited for their signal. Eventually Leonardo caught their eye and pointed to a building located diagonally from the one they were standing on, to where he wanted them stationed. Donatello looked the six stories down over the edge and noticed a manhole positioned in the lane-way beneath them.

"That must where Splinter said he could smell recent activity." Donatello deducted quickly. Splinter, whom by far had the most sensitive nose of them all, had detected the gun powder-like aroma of smoke bombs en route to his garden courtyard earlier in the day and had warned his sons of this new presence of the Foot.

Michelangelo groaned.

"They're not gonna show up. They never use the same place twice in a row. Everyone knows that."

Donatello couldn't help but wonder who everyone _was,_ exactly, but he agreed with Michelangelo on that point. But after April was attacked it felt more personal than ever, and he was determined to find answers.

"Come on, Mikey. Let's get over there."

They began dashing towards their designated position and Donatello's blood pulsed responsively with their hurried pace. It was an invigorating and freeing feeling running in the chilled night air of the city, swooping across stomach dropping distances, their feet lightly skittering along the rooftops. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long while. They leapt with agile grace from building to building and soon they had situated themselves in the shadow of a large billboard, surveying for any signs of their enemies. An hour passed in relative silence. During this time Michelangelo had changed his positions restlessly, and was currently dangling his leg off the edge of the building, swinging it in boredom.

"I'm gonna hit up Raph with a text and tell him the only foot I see are the two ugly ones attached to his legs."

Donatello shook his head, his expression skeptical .

"If you're trying to agitate him, he won't take the bait that easy."

Michelangelo turned to face his brother. He swept his leg up and lay it flat on the brickwork.

"Wanna make a bet?" he grinned deviously, the light glinting off his enlivened eyes in an unusually sinister way.

Donatello crossed his arms and took a deep breath. Trying to contain the damage was the only sensible recourse when Michelangelo kicked it up into high gear trouble making. Plus there would be the chance of getting out of some menial labor…

"Sure. I bet you all my chores for a week he's not going to blow up at that. He's onto you. He's kind of known you for a while now."

Michelangelo face lit up, "Oh, okay Mr Know It All. How about this - if he _does_ blow his top, you have to plant a big one on April."

Donatello blanched, "_What!?_ – I'm not doing that, Mikey."

"You sure, Donnie? You won't mind if I win that way." Michelangelo teased as one corner of his mouth stretched up.

"_No_. Something not out of your fantasy world or I'm out."

"How about planting a big one on Casey?"

Donatello waited stonily for him to amend that.

"Okay then..." Michelangelo finally offered begrudgingly, "How about doing my chores for a week?"

"Done."

Michelangelo took out his shell cell and began writing his message. He chuckled moments later at Raphael's reply.

"Have fun washing my dishes, bro. You shoulda taken my first offer."

Donatello offered a chastised grin, gracious in defeat, but his heart wasn't in it. He looked over to the east to where April's place was, wondering what the next few days would bring.

...

It had only been a single day, and the filth that emanated from Casey's every step was one thing that April definitely did not miss. She flipped up a pair of stained sweatpants onto the sofa with her crutch, and made her way over to where he was sitting.

"Casey, can you please not leave your laundry on the floor…I can see it when I'm _eating_."

Casey looked stricken; he scurried over to the sofa and began picking up his sundry items, stuffing them into a garbage bag he'd used to move his meager possessions. Okay, so maybe she had a point about the dirty underwear... but he'd been trying, dammit, hoping that she would see something in him again.

"Uh, sorry, babe. Ah, I mean, April."

She felt a twinge of guilt, and softened.

"Look, I'm sorry, Case. I guess I'm not used to sharing my space again." She stood still, watching him sympathetically, leaning into her crutches for support.

Casey placed his stuff down and swaggered up to her with steady, measured steps, his face taken over by his million dollar smile. It was cute, she supposed. He was as fit as an ox and handsome to boot, a combination that had given him a measure of leeway in his behavior that he had taken advantage of way too often.

"Hey, it weren't all bad, was it? Livin' on toppa each other?" He slipped his hands around her waist, his eyes sparkling playfully and head tilting towards her, "Sharin' each others _space_."

She glanced down to where his hands were, unimpressed.

"Oh, yeah, I remember alright. We nearly murdered each other every other night."

"Where's there's anger, there's passion, babe." He eyed her coyly, and began swaying his hips. April stiffened, struggling not to topple over on her crutches. Being called babe on _purpose_ had pushed her buttons. She tried her best not to lose her temper, remaining very calm.

"No, where's there's anger, there's anger." she countered, "Something that is completely exhausting to deal with day in and out."

Casey leaned in closer.

"That's not how I remember it." He rumbled seductively into her ear.

"Casey, _please_ take your hands off me."

"What's the matter, babe? You know you want - YEOW!"

April had stabbed him in the foot with the end of her crutch and leaned away from him irritably. "You know, I'm beginning to like these things."

Casey grunted, flexing his foot painfully. This was _really_ not going how he wanted it to.

"Jeez, April, what do ya want from me?" he whined.

"I want you to stop acting like this. I mean, is your place even being fumigated? Tell me the truth."

He froze, caught in the lie.

"I thought so." she said quietly, shaking her head angrily.

Casey released a groan, swinging his arms out in frustration, "ARGH! I'm _sorry_, April. I thought if we just spent more time together, somethin' would … I dunno, _come back_."

"This. _This_ is what I don't miss, Casey. It was always like this with us. The lies, the fighting -why would you want that, either?"

He crouched onto the ground, covering the back of his dank locks with his hands. April's ire diminished; he only ever did this when he felt cornered emotionally, unable to get his thoughts out. Back when they had dated, she'd been suckered into it time and time again, consoling him in place of dealing with the issue at hand. She blinked. He looked so sad, so lonely in his old clothes. The garbage bag he used as a suitcase had broken her heart. There was something so familiar about this situation that she almost went down to hug him. She probably would have if she could, something else to be thankful about the crutches for, she supposed.

"I miss you, April. I've been tryin' hard to turn around, but fer what? Ya don't even want me." He said miserably.

She breathed in gently. The room seemed to shrink in on them, every argument intensely apparent once again.

"Casey, I'm very proud of what you've done. I can see how much you've changed and how far you've come – and I am even willing to put aside what you did tonight. But at the end of the day you have to do those things for yourself, not for me. I'm not some kind of reward for good behavior. I thought you'd respect me enough to know that."

"So that's it? Ya don't care about me?" he pleaded, still crouched in a ball on the ground, his eyes watering with pain.

She shook her head in disbelief; it was as if he had not heard a word she said.

"Listen, I'll always care about you, Casey. It's just a different kind of relationship now. You understand?"

He stood back up, and brushed himself off.

"Yeah. I understand perfectly. I'm not _him_." He thrust his hand angrily towards the table, where Donatello's card sat near the irises.

April's indignation rose, she spoke through her gritted teeth, shaking with fury.

"How dare you? He has never, _ever_…" she stopped, pinching between her eyes, unwilling to justify this to him.

"Never _what_?" he growled.

"He's never tried anything, _ever_." She spat out furiously. "Is that what you want to hear? And you and I haven't been together in a _long_ time, Casey. But within one day of you being here - _one _- _you _tried to get into my damned _pants_."

April was livid, furious at herself for being in this situation, furious at Casey and his deceptions and accusations, but most of all furious because she had been lured back into another fight, the one thing she did not want to do.

"It don't matter what he's tried, April, it matters what he wants."

She laughed hollowly, "It's never about I want, though. Is it?"

What the hell would Casey know about what Donatello wanted, anyway? He'd made it clear enough to her that they were only friends. Her heart panged guiltily at the thought of him.

She swung back to the kitchen table and sat, stress twisting through her. She idly traced the pattern of the tablecloth, trying to relax. Casey, inhaled sharply, and walked over to join her. He grabbed out a chair and collapsed, unable to even look at the flowers or the card, intensely regretting bringing it up. Donatello's inscription had made not a lick of sense, anyway. Probably some kind of joke only the two of them were in on, as per usual. _That must make me their biggest punch line of all_, he thought bitterly.

"What _do_ ya want, April? Tell me, 'cause I wanna know before I give up on you."

Give up on her? April felt an empty echo of the past catch up with her. This felt like the conversation they should have had a year ago, fresh after their breakup, but instead it felt latent and irrelevant. Back then Casey had refused to even talk to her, and when he had hit the bottle hard it was nothing but angry accusations anyway. But even then, she felt the same way as she did now.

She shook her head, "I don't know. I know that's a shitty answer, but it's the truth."

"What about me?" he begged. "Do ya want me?"

She hung her head, unable to look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Casey." She whispered.

"No, don't be." He stood back up, the chair scraping loudly on the ground, "Yer right, April. I was a big knucklehead comin' over here and expectin' things. I shouldn't a done it to ya."

His heavy steps pounded over to the couch, and he collected the remainder of his things. They didn't even fill his bag. He'd left a hollow in the sofa where he had slept, the blanket still messily stretched out over its length, the cushions jammed into the crevice near the armrest - it was as if a ghost from their past had taken residence. April watched, tears in her eyes. It felt like they were breaking up all over again. He paced over to the front door placing his hand on the doorknob, and looked back over his shoulder to talk to her.

"Forgive me, someday, willya?" he said softly.

She swallowed hard, holding back the tears.

"Always, Casey."

His blue eyes glimmered morosely as he took one last look around her apartment. This time he knew he was really saying goodbye.

"I'll see you around, kiddo." He opened the front door, and clicked it shut behind him.

...

It was after midnight when Leonardo finally called off their surveillance. Cold and stiff from waiting, they slowly made their way back to the designated sewer tunnel. Donatello's feet splashed lightly into the waters below as he dropped from the ladder onto the cement ground. He began walking to where he could see Leonardo and Raphael waiting silently in the shadows. Michelangelo was in front him and practically bounded to his waiting siblings.

"What a bust." Raphael said angrily as they quietly paced back to the lair.

Leonardo shook his head.

"It's not. If they are avoiding using the same place twice then they must feel a little threatened by us. Perhaps they even suspect we live close to this area." Leonardo countered strategically, his eyes meeting his brothers. "In any case, they're likely to use it again, so we should keep watch on that spot for the time being."

Donatello grimaced. The inconsistency of the foot had him worried. The safety of their home was now being reduced to playing a game of Russian Roulette.

"I agree." Donatello added. "Something's happening with them – I don't know what but it's never been like this before."

Raphael snorted derisively and smacked his clenched fist into his palm.

"Friggin' foot. I _wish_ they hadda turned up." he growled as his mouth curled into a snarl. Michelangelo's impatience didn't hold a candle to his; he'd been itching to stab something all night. Catching sight of his youngest brother he did the next best thing, delivering a strong punch to his arm.

"_Ow! _What was that for?" Michelangelo said as he rubbed his now throbbing bicep.

"Ya _hafta_ ask?" Raphael snapped back.

...

Casey walked heavily back to his truck, his belongings slumped over his shoulder. He almost ripped open the car door, throwing his things on the floor of the passenger side before walking around to the driver's side. He glanced briefly at the dent April had put in the hood. He could knock it out easily enough, but he wanted it there. It was part of him as much as she was. He got into his side and gripped the wheel tightly, dropping his head as rejection ripped through him.

"_FUCK!_" he screamed, making a fist and punching the top the dashboard. It cracked beneath his powerful force.

He couldn't face being alone in his apartment. The thought gaped at him like the promise of hard time in a prison. He turned the engine, the radio blasting a forlorn Eagles song, and ground his teeth together, thinking.

_I gotta get outta here, _he thought bitterly.

He remembered a friend down at Kentucky, an old buddy from his youth who had offered him work repairing some fences on the boundary of his property just outside of Louisville. He could make the trip, he figured, earn some money and end back out on the family farmhouse and try and get something going there. _Anything_. He just had to get away from the city, and away from April. Get her out of his system just like the liquor - cold turkey.

Casey glanced down at the garbage bag full of his belongings. It wasn't like he even needed to go back to his place, anyway. Anything he owned that was worth a damn was right here in this truck - including the baseball bat he had jammed under the seat. He grunted, flipped on the indicator and pulled quickly out of his parking space, spinning out rear the tires. The car ate the road underneath him, his face a scowl, his loins still burning. First he'd swing by Ramona's place, he thought, bend her across the table and take her from behind. She'd been begging to see him for weeks, and what better send-off to this clusterfuck of a night?

_'A woman who knows what she wants', _he seethed_, 'what a frickin' novelty.'_

_..._


	8. FIRE AND STONE

A/N: To continue this "one shot", a long post with the next chapter coming soon because I had to break it somewhere... Please feel free to post your feelings in a review!

* * *

8. FIRE AND STONE

"Okay, other leg." Donatello instructed, crouched down at her side.

April sat on the floor pressed against the base of her sofa, a spongy yoga mat beneath her. She lifted her straightened leg into his hands, the tendons aching with tension. Donatello lightly supported her leg as she flexed her sole back towards herself.

She hissed with an intake of air as the muscles around her knee slowly stretched out.

"_Higher_." She demanded. Donatello looked back up at her to see her straining and only fractionally raised her leg. "Come on, don't be shy." she said through gritted teeth.

"Take it easy, Miss O'Neil." He smirked. She relaxed her leg back down onto the ground, perspiring lightly. She lifted her leg again, this time on her own, chuckling at her struggle.

"It's fine until I really stretch it, then it kills." She admitted, continuing alone with the repetitions.

Donatello glanced back up at her, assessing her progress intently.

"It's only been a few weeks since the stitches were out. Some of the damage is going to take time heal." he said.

"I know. I guess I'm just impatient to start bungee jumping again." She joked and tapped him playfully on the thigh with her heel. Donatello released an amused snort.

"In that case, let me go get the cord." he offered as he brandished his scarred wrist in the air. April giggled and leaned back onto the sofa, propping her elbows up behind her.

"Okay." She puffed. "Now what?"

Donatello glanced at the sheet to the side of him that listed the run of her physiotherapy exercises. He slid his finger down the page until he landed on the next activity.

"Alright. Bend your knee towards yourself." He said.

She complied, slowly picking her knee from the floor and reaching it towards her chest.

"Hold it for ten," he said, ready to catch her foot if it dropped. He glimpsed at the scar, raised and crossed with tiny tracks that marked where the stitches had been. In a way it had become a symbol of her recovery. Donatello knew she was a little self conscious of it, but it was part of her, and despite where it had come from, he loved it all the same.

"This feels good." She said in a tight voice, the strain of the hold hurting in a deliciously pleasant way. Sweat had streamed down her chest, and a red flush had risen on her neck. Donatello tried his best to retain his composure, but she wasn't making it easy.

"Um…Okay. Relax."

She placed it gently on the ground again, a puff of air escaping her. She continued with another stretch.

"Donnie, you said if I wanted anything to let you know, right?"

"Mm hm." he agreed vaguely, trying with great difficulty to focus on the form of her movement.

"Well I want to visit you. See the lair. I was thinking maybe in a few weeks when I can move around better? You've all been so kind coming here but… I miss it. I haven't been there since before…" she swallowed at the memory, "I haven't been there since before…you know."

Donatello nodded, his face grim. He knew precisely when she had been there last. It was just before the time they hadn't talked for that whole, awful month.

April wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Had it been that long already? The lair was like her other home, and it felt like forever since she had been there. She missed Splinter, the boys and their company, all in one place, and all safe within the confines of the sewer. Plus, she reasoned, she owed them big for helping take care of her. She'd have been lost without them. Especially Donatello.

Donatello adjusted himself on the ground, sitting back with his hands behind him.

"Are you sure you're not-"

"Scared?" She placed her leg down, "No. Running into the foot like that was a fluke. Even you said you haven't seen them down there since."

Donatello admired her bravery. Raphael was right, she was indeed tough. But the cost would still be too high if anything happened and he was not willing to take the risk. Not while she was still recovering. Not ever.

"That may be true, but ever since we had our run it's more than likely that they would be closely monitoring that section of the sewers. We just need a better way of getting there."

April gave a disappointed sigh. She knew he was trying to look out for her but she was determined.

"Whatever you think, Donnie." She turned her hand up, "I could go from the surface? Meet you down near the lair."

Donatello's face suddenly brightened with inspiration, "I have a better idea. It's a little unorthodox…but I think you'll dig it."

April knew that look. He had something crazy planned. She narrowed her eyes and tried to think what it could be, but he was giving nothing away.

"Are you going to tell me what it is? Or am I going have to force out of you?" her eyes wandered curiously over his body. Maybe she would do it anyway, she thought, hold him down until he yielded to her. She delivered him a threatening smile.

Donatello shook his head his eyes brimming with secrets.

"I think it's best if I just surprise you with this."

"Okay." She said with vested interest, dropping her hands onto her lap,"I'm game. Let's try it your way."

.

The two weeks flew by, and no matter how hard April tried to press or trick Donatello into revealing his plans, he didn't trip once. As an added bonus and thanks to her regimented training schedule with Donatello, her knee had quickly limbered up to the point where she could move freely and easily around. Finally the day came. He arrived in the early evening and they made their way down to the alley by her place. She found herself genuinely excited to be heading into the sewers and was amused by the notion. _If someone told me I'd be doing this a few years ago, I would have said they were crazy_, she thought with a grin. They quickly descended into the manhole adjacent to her building and before long were standing by one of his creations.

"So _this_ is the big surprise?" April looked it over, impressed.

"That's right. What do you think?"

"Is it safe?" she queried frankly as her eyes roamed across its construction and then back to him. A hovercraft? Was he serious? Her heart beat with excitement and with more than a small measure of fear.

The vehicle had all the hallmarks of Donatello's flair – scrounged and re-purposed components, expertly reconfigured. However, it was quite a beast to behold - a large fan jutted out from the back, and a rubber rim encircled the plastic shell that formed the chassis. He had sprayed it an olive green color which virtually matched the algae on the sewer walls. Probably to help disguise it, she thought, if you could even do that with a nine foot hovercraft.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked with a grin.

She stood nervously on the spot, trying to delicately answer the question.

"With my life." She said with a timid smile. It was the truth. Finally she relaxed, resigning herself to the adventure, and slumped her large bag by her side, "Okay, so, where do you want me?"

Donatello looked at the central interior, "You can sit up behind me on the bench. Don't worry, it'll be fine. Here, let me take that." Donatello lifted her bag, which was quite a bit heavier than he anticipated, and stashed it in the storage compartment.

"After you." he said, offering his hand for embarking. She grabbed on, placed a foot unsteadily onto the rubber mats and straddled the seat. Donatello jumped in with a practiced ease and sat in front of her taking the steering handlebars.

"Ready?"

He looked down at the gauges. "Hm. That's weird." He muttered to himself, tapping the console. The indicator slowly readjusted itself.

"Donnie, are you _sure _this thing is safe?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Everything's good to go." He added confidently. He switched it on, the engines blasting loudly as the air from the fan pumped into the rubber skirt and began to thrust them forward.

April gasped in surprise, and scooted right up behind him, slipping her arms around his shell and by his waist, clinging tightly to his leather belt strap.

"Don!" she said in a panic, "How do you stop this thing from bumping into the walls?!"

"Sensors!" he shouted back over the noise.

They took off rapidly, the hovercraft skimming less than a foot off the ground. Air was forcefully being pumped beneath it, and it moved quickly, consuming the distance between her place and the lair. They passed the main junctions by her house in a misty flash and she whipped her head back over her shoulder to see it disappear behind them in a blur.

The craft jittered as it came to a curved tunnel, and Donatello gripped the steering handles tightly.

"Hang on." He yelled.

"I am!" she cried back desperately.

They began to swoop up the side of the tunnel, speeding along its curve.

"Oh my god." April muttered, her stomach pitching at the incline of the craft. She closed her eyes tightly and buried her face into his shell by his shoulder, her fingers digging in to his plastron.

"I swear, if I fall I'm taking you down with me!" she yelled at him.

Donatello chuckled, expertly maneuvering the craft through the narrow tunnels. True to his word, the sensors would slightly adjust the position of the vehicle if it came to close to the walls, giving them the sensation of a gentle rocking as they rocketed forward. April desperately tried holding in her stomach which heaved threateningly. The tunnels passed by in a grey streak as Donatello took a wide and winding route back. After what seemed like hours to her, he finally spoke.

"It's not too much further now." He reassured her over the loud noise of the engine.

They finally approached the straight stretch near the lair and he began slowing the craft. Hidden slightly away from the lair was a garage that they used to access the tunnels. He activated the concealed door to open and made way for it. With great care he gently pulled inside, letting the craft momentarily come to a standstill before he cut the engine. The fan slowly motored down. A wheezing hiss of air released from the skirt as they lowered to the ground.

"There you go. Here in one piece." He said, looking over his shoulder to talk to her. April promptly punched him playfully in the leg.

"Do that to me again, and I will _kill_ you. _Painfully_." she said with a forced smile. She slowly released her white knuckled hands from his waist and found herself missing his stability.

"You have to admit, that was fun." He said, trying to appease her with a playful grin. He could tell by the high color in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes that he had hit the mark on that one.

"Yeah, okay. It was fun." She laughed. April tried standing, but she was trembling badly. "Okay, maybe too much fun."

A flitter of concern crossed his face and Donatello jumped out and offered her a hand. She accepted it gratefully, and landed on the ground with a thud.

"Take it easy, there." He said kindly.

"I'm okay. I've been doing my leg work for weeks and weeks. I think I almost squeezed your seat to death with my thighs."

He grabbed her bag and threw it across his shoulder.

"You're right." he sighed, "You could kick my butt, anyway."

"I will do it you know." she only half-jested, "Just put me on that thing again."

"So I guess we're not taking it back to yours?" he asked with a quizzical raise of his brow.

"Yeah. You guessed correct." Not able to maintain her displeasure, she smiled, "But thanks for the ride. It was a real _slice_." She slapped his shell light-heartedly.

They began walking towards the entrance of the lair. Donatello slightly readjusted her carry bag on his shoulder.

"What have you got in this thing, anyway?" he asked. April glanced over at him with a cryptic grin.

"A whole lot of things for dinner. Including vegetable lasagne Mikey's been begging me to make. And something else that you'll have to _wait_ and _see_." She said mysteriously.

"If you're trying to win our hearts with food, Miss O'Neil, let me tell you one thing. It's completely working."

April narrowed her eyes and pressed her fingertips together.

"Everything is going to plan, then." She joked. April looked back at the hovercraft behind them, "I have to say, Don, that wasn't exactly the most discreet way back to the lair."

"Maybe not. But it's the fastest. Plus I've put out extra security sensors in the last few weeks, and it's been a ghost town around here."

"Oh good. Well then I can get back to conquering your stomachs in peace."

He laughed as their steps traced the path back to the front door. It was like old times again, and she beamed at the feeling. It really was her other family, her other home, and she was sharing it with the one person who felt like all those things to her already.

.

After a resoundingly successful meal where they had all gorged themselves on the full spread April had prepared, Splinter bid them goodnight with a polite bow and retired to his room. Being a movie night, the rest began to convene in the living room discussing with heated debate over which flick to watch and so far Raphael's desire to view a gory action flick was edging out the comedy. Michelangelo remained at the table, picking mouthfuls of macaroni from the tray with a spoon, and spicing up his bites with dashes of tabasco sauce. What they were doing suddenly piqued his interest.

"Show it to me, baby!" Michelangelo hollered from the kitchen. He dropped his spoon and bounded back over to the lounge, flipping his feet over the back rest like a pummel horse, to where April was about to show her scar.

"Okay,okay." She laughed. "Ready?" She rolled up her denim capris, and tilted her left leg towards them.

"_Oohh._.." Michelangelo gasped, impressed at the sight. Raphael whistled in surprise.

"Well, it ain't pretty." he said with a raised brow. The thin line of a scar perfectly showed the trajectory of the shuriken.

April nodded, a little more subdued, "Yeah. And now it's part of me forever." She looked down at it. If every scar told a story, she was undecided of which memory of that night she attached it to more– meeting with Donatello after their time apart, or being attacked by the foot. She glanced up at him to where he sat in the far corner of living room.

Donatello grinned back at her and tried to soften Raphael's callous observation. "Only you could make a scar look good, April."

Raphael coughed, a little flustered, "Uh, yeah, that's what I meant." He back-pedaled.

Michelangelo, sensing the lull, saw his chance:

"So April, are ya finally ready for the marathon?" he asked with a face that conjured up images of the trembling delicacy of the purist snow. He sat with his chin placed innocently on his arm, his elbow slung over the backrest.

"Marathon?" her brows knitted together, "What are you talking about?"

"You know, the one with the leprechaun? The one you told Donnie you were in when ya rang him from the hospital." the innocent look was beginning to crack. Donatello shot and alarmed look his brother's way.

"_Leprechaun?_" her confusion slowly faded and was replaced by a look of abject horror as she realized what had happened, "Oh…no…Dr Perchon? Doctor _Lee_ Perchon? Oh my god. Please tell me I did not say that in front of him," she pleaded, burying her face in her hands. "Oh god…he asked if I was a runner when he was stitching up my leg…Oh. _Shit_."

The hoots of laughter echoed in the lair.

"Oh man, that is too funny." Michelangelo said, slapping his leg.

"I had my money on ya to kick that leprechaun's ass." Raphael added slyly.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny." She shot back, her face burning.

She rolled her pants back down and smoothed the hem, hoping to the heavens she'd be struck by a freakish ball of underground lightening and the memory permanently erased.

"How does your knee feel now?" Leonardo asked, leaning forward on the edge of his chair to inspect it closer. He is so serious, April thought, it was as if he were mentally adding it to the tally between the foot and them.

"Good, thanks to Don's help. I can move it and everything." She swung her leg back and forth, holding her arms out for balance. "See?"

"_April, April, April_." Michelangelo tutted, "That's simply not good enough. You have to _prove_ it."

April scoffed at the accusation.

"Oh yeah, and how exactly do I do _that_?" she placed a hands on her hip and jabbed a finger at him, "And _don't _say run a marathon with a leprechaun."

"No, no. Like _this_."

He jumped over to the stereo that was recessed under the television and pressed play. A bouncy auto-tuned pop song started blasting through the speakers. The beat pumped throughout the lair, and he jumped in time back in front of her, a good-natured grin on his face.

"Oh yeah - I _lurve_ this one." Michelangelo started moving, double punching the air to the beat, and pulled a laughing April into his hands. "Come on, girl. Show me ya moves." April joined him, casually moving her hips to the song as Raphael groaned off to the side.

"Oh _gimme_ a break, Mikey."

"It's just the one song, bro. _Relax_."

April smiled evilly at Raphael, "You could always join us?" she joked.

"Yer just encouraging him." Raphael said darkly.

April didn't listen, she was enjoying the impromptu dance off. She giggled at Michelangelo's embellishment of every word with an action, and he encouraged her to mirror him, which she did in a fit of hysterics.

"Okay, try this." He said to her. He moved his feet in a simple but sharp pattern, as his body seemed to ooze like jelly above him. He snapped his flat hand towards her as his shoulder popped.

Donatello sank further back into his corner.

"Mikey," April, said in mild shock, "You're really good!"

"Then check _this_ out." Michelangelo broke free and started with some light break dancing. His body moved fluidly between the floor and the air with a spin of his hands on the ground. He landed near Donatello with a flip, and dragged him off his seat.

"You better take over for me, bro. I feel a solo coming on."

Donatello attempted resisting, raising his arms and trying to step back into his seat, "_Mikey_," he hissed. Oh no, this was not happening. Not dancing.

"Come on, Donnie. What are you, chicken?" Michelangelo swung his brother around towards April, who was shaking her head with a smile.

"Yeah, not afraid of a girl, are you?" April said with raised eyebrows. She chuckled and pulled him towards her, "I promise I won't bite." She placed one hand on his shoulder, and clasped the other out to the side. They began to step in rhythm in a limber sway, circling around in time to the music. Donatello felt his heart begin to quicken in a mixture of panic and desire.

"I'm sorry about Mikey." Donatello apologized. "He's been a little with obsessed with break dancing ever since the reality dance comp binge he's been on recently." He shot a look over her shoulder at his trouble making brother, who was innocently performing on his own, and lapping up the attention of his brothers. It wasn't quite the kind of attention he was hoping for, but he was taking it.

April laughed, her nose crinkling in delight, "It's fine. He's a natural. One of the best I've seen, honestly."

"And now for my favorite move," Michelangelo sang out to his captive audience. He somersaulted onto the ground, spinning rapidly on the peak of his shell, arms and legs tucked in.

"Nice, Mikey." Leonardo said admiringly, and Raphael snorted.

"Yeah, if ya wanna look like a flushin' turd."

April looked back to Donatello.

"You know, you're not so bad yourself." She said. He felt himself blush, thankful that his green skin hid it well.

"Ah…thanks." he replied after a small amount of time had passed, "It helps having a partner that knows what they're doing, I guess. And I have the best."

Donatello felt warm this close to her as they danced round and round. His other hand rested gently on her waist, and it was all he could do not to think of it there on the smooth nook of her body. With each step it pressed into his palm. _Don't think of the dream…_he told himself, _Don't think of it…_

April dipped her head and looked back up at him her eyes sparkling, "What a sweet compliment. Well, since you're such a pro, spin me."

Donatello's heart thumped erratically at the words, the memory of their dance flooding his mind, the light shattering across her face as she kissed him…

"What?" he whispered.

"_Spin_ me." She said with a quick rise and fall of her brows.

He stepped back and held her hand high, watching as she twirled in sparkling delight, her silver necklace lifting off her throat. His heart raced. He caught her as she finished the spin, ending up easily back in position. They continued moving together hand in hand.

"April, you go girl." Michelangelo cried out. He was starting with some crunking moves, much to the disgust of Raphael who had brought out his sai and was twirling it threateningly between his fingers.

"How about we make this _really _interestin'?" he snickered.

"Ya _totally_ killing my buzz, bro."

Michelangelo flipped forward onto his hands and held himself in a headstand.

"And this is what I like to call 'turtle in a blender'!" he yelped. With a quick twist of his legs, he was spinning, his head grinding into the floor. He jumped back onto his feet upon which Leonardo and Raphael offered lazy applause.

"Now, that one's _got _to hurt a little. But I've always wanted a battering ram for our missions." Leonardo mused.

"You know what they say: no brain, no pain." Raphael snickered. Without missing a beat, Michelangelo responded.

"Spoken by the master."

A sai went flying, piercing the ground near Michelangelo. He gave a high pitched squeal of fear and jumped back with a flip, proceeding to moonwalk into his next move.

April giggled, and turned her attention back to Donatello.

"Listen, Don. I never really told how much I appreciated your help after I got back from the hospital. With the errands, and the exercises and everything else…you're a real life saver. Literally, a life saver. I mean, I'm able to dance right now because of you." Her cheeks were glowing warm, and she gripped her fingers tightly against his, their light steps still in time to the song.

"The recovery was all you." Donatello said, "Anything else is not a problem. It's the least I could do after what happened."

"You mean after you _rescued_ me? Yeah, it was the least you could do." She replied, grinning.

"But I shouldn't have put you at risk in the first place."

"It was my idea to meet, remember? So, just take the compliment." She pecked him on the cheek, "You deserve it."

Donatello dropped his eyes, certain she could feel his face on fire. He stumbled over his words.

"Um…ah, April…it's…it's fine. Really." He hissed in a deep breath, scrambling to change the topic, "So what are your plans for the rest of the week now that you can move about freely? Apart from your marathon, anyway." He added with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, you know," she said breezily, "the regular things: capture a pirate ship, sail the seven seas, maybe even bury some treasure." She said with a grin.

He chuckled, "Well, if you need a first mate to keep the crew in line, let me know."

She grinned mischievously, her eyes quickly appraising his arms as if to determine his viability.

"Maybe…but there are some very strict requirements." she said, enjoying the flirt, "Firstly, you have to be a ninja. It's a non-negotiable."

"Okay." He answered with a grin. Their steps continued to move in circles, the room spinning in blur of dark red bricks as they danced, the thread-bare couch a whirling streak, his brothers non-existent.

"And whoever it was would have to have my back. There's no time for mutiny with all the pillaging we'd have to do."

He nodded "I can do that."

April's eyes sparkled with mirth as she lay down her last condition.

"And finally, you'd just have to impress me on the dance floor."

Without thinking Donatello dropped his hand into the small of her back and she swung backwards with a gasp into a dip. He leant over her, his other hand clasping hers out to the side, supporting their weight.

"So, am I hired?" he asked with a wry grin.

Still tipped back, she looked at him by tilting her head forward.

"Yeah." She breathed, her heart pumping. "Welcome aboard."

He lifted her back up with a gentle push, and they continued their waltz, her hand firmly in his.

"Thank you, captain." he said, a small smile dancing on his mouth.

April drew in a deep breath, her pulse returning to normal. Going around in circles must have made her dizzy, she reasoned. Or something did at least. Donatello was light on his feet, moving with a grace she hadn't expected. And there was such an easy flow of movement between them as they danced, how had they not tried this before?

She broke into her own reverie, "Don, do you have some time later?"

"Sure." He said, his eyes fixed on hers, "All the time in the world."

"Good, because you know that 'mysterious thing' in my bag…I only just found it after-"

"Uh, guys," Michelangelo interjected, disbanding their solitude. "The music's stopped."

April and Donatello halted their dancing mid-step, glancing at each other in shock.

"Oh." April flinched and quickly released herself from Donatello's hold, her face starting to burn, "Uh, okay…"

Donatello's expression was equally stunned. They hadn't even noticed the music.

"Thank you April, for that insight into maritime history." He said quickly in a vain attempt to cover for them.

"Oh, _brother_." Raphael muttered under his breath.

"You're, ah… _welcome_." She responded gratefully, "So, yes. As you can see, my leg is feeling great." She announced to the room, chuckling lightly. "Ah, and by the way, nice moves, Mikey."

_Oh boy, way to go, that wasn't weird at all, _she thought to herself. She scuttled back over to sit back by Leonardo as Donatello gingerly made his way back to his corner of the lounge.

Leonardo had been watching with curious interest over their last few moments. Something felt different between the two of them. Trust Michelangelo to throw those two together like that. He offered her a kind grin, as she sat.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling yourself." He added.

"Thanks." She replied, her voice tight and unnatural. _Way to make it worse, April_, she chastised herself. She breathed deeply, and tried again. "Thanks, Leo. I appreciate that."

April caught Donatello from the corner of her eye, talking to Michelangelo about something, and her heart buzzed. She still felt light-headed, woozy from the dance. She wrung her hands together, trying to calm herself. What the heck had just happened? She inhaled deeply and settled back into her chair, waiting patiently for the movie to start so she could lose herself completely in the mindless violence.

.

Not long after the film had finished, Leonardo stretched out of his arms and wished them goodnight , deciding to turn in order to rise early the next day. _Always the diligent student_, she thought fondly. Michelangelo on the other hand was still wide awake and bubbling with energy, and had begun chasing his wayward cat around the lair before finally settling into playing a video game. Raphael watched with half interest Michelangelo's progress.

"Any news from Casey?" Raphael asked with a sidelong glance to April. She shook her head.

"No, only what you've told me." she said, almost apologetically. "That he's down near Louisville and heading back out to the farmhouse in the next few weeks."

Raphael grunted in reply. He had heard the story of what had happened from April weeks ago and couldn't believe that his friend just up and left like that. Or maybe he could and just didn't like it.

_What a jack-ass_, he thought, all the women in the world and he had to fuck it up with April. And things were _just_ starting to feel normal again. Unbelievable. Maybe it was a good thing he was out of town for a while. He surreptitiously glanced over to Donatello and noticed his stonily alert pose.

"Well if ya do, tell him I almost miss havin' that dead-beat chump around. _Almost_." he added.

April dropped her head and looked back up at him with a comforting smile. She reached out and patted his arm.

"He'll keep in touch. Don't worry."

Raphael nodded satisfactorily and then skulked over to his punching post, delivering low jabs to the midsection of the dummy, and grumbling under his breath about how the heroes of the movie were light-weight wimps that he could teach a thing or two. April had no doubt he was right on that count, and she knew who she'd rather have on her side in any case.

April motioned Donatello to his lab with a tilt of her head, and he nodded subtly in return.

"Excuse the mess." He apologized as they entered his room. She rolled her eyes and pushed him forward.

"Don, you always say that. I don't think it's messy." she said with a grin.

He led April through the organized chaos, although if she was completely honest, it was more of a workshop than a room. It had been a long while since she'd been here, and although some things had moved and new projects were taking up bench space, she felt like she understood some of the method to his madness. There was an intricate system that let Donatello juggle many things at once, being able to pick up and leave an electric kettle for a pair of night vision goggles for a motorbike. Everywhere in his room it smelt like metal shavings and engine oil, it was a comforting smell that she always associated with him. She spotted the hovercraft model sitting on the work table, and paused by it.

"I remember when you had only just started with this prototype." She remarked at the scaled version of the vehicle they taken to the lair "It came out fantastic..._terrifying_, but fantastic."

Donatello brushed the compliment off with a shrug, "Just something to stave off the boredom. Mikey helped me test it, which was a lot of fun."

April shot him an amused look. Only Donatello would construct a hovercraft out of boredom. Although she was more certain it was just the insatiable urge he had just to do something with his hands and mind. His engineering prowess was unprecedented.

"I'm glad it was Mikey, he always lands on his feet."

"Hey, it wasn't that shaky…after the first few test runs."

She continued walking down to the end of his room, and placed her bag on some of the precious real estate on the computer desk. She unzipped the bag and reached in her arms.

"Okay, sit down and close your eyes for a second." She commanded with a wink.

Donatello raised his brow curiously and sat at the end of his bunk. He shut his eyes, his brow knitting together. "Alright. They're closed." He confirmed.

She turned back around.

"I was meant to give you this the day we were attacked. It's been sitting in my cupboard this whole time, and I guess with everything that's happened it slipped my mind." she felt a sombre pang at the thought, "Okay, you can look now."

He opened his eyes to see her holding something behind her back.

"From memory, you still have five guesses left." She told him, with a playful twinkle in her eye. The weight of what she was holding was pulling her arms down and she writhed in her striped lemon-colored sweater as she strived to hide the effect.

"We're still doing that?" he teased. "I'm _right_ here, you can just show me."

She lowered her chin, and flashed him a devious smile.

"Nice try, Donnie. But you have to see this through to the bitter end."

He laughed, defeated. He knew should would not take no for an answer.

"Okay." Donatello clucked his tongue as the rusted wheels of his head turned, "So far I know it's some kind of crystal…_sort of_," he re-enforced the last words and she nodded slowly in approval. It was 'sort of' a crystal, according to April, which served to muddy the clues even more, "and you said it reminds you of _me_."

"Yes." She confirmed, slowly adjusting her legs to gain some traction. He tapped his feet on the ground in thought.

"Chalcedony…agate, perhaps?" he ventured. She shook her head with a bewildered look. April was no novice when it came to science, but he really had a knack for throwing down the terminology.

"Uh…nice try, but - _four_ guesses left." She smiled. She had this in the bag.

Donatello rubbed his chin, watching her struggle with the weight of the gift behind her back, purposefully delaying his answer, and broke into a humoured chuckle.

"Oh my god, please hurry." She begged.

"Alright, sorry. Amethyst?" he guessed. It didn't quite fit the clues so far, but he went on a whim.

She scrunched her face up with a sigh, and reluctantly nodded.

"Yes. But I need more details." She demanded.

He looked askance at the floor…more details? It clicked.

"It's a geode." He said definitively.

A skeptical wonder crossed her face. From behind her she presented the ball shaped rock that had been sliced in two to reveal its beautiful crystalline interior. Each half sparkled in her splayed hands.

"I can't believe you got it. You are way too good at this."

Donatello raised his brow, speechless.

"They're extraordinary." He managed to choke out.

It was a stunning specimen. She passed them to him, each the size of a half a melon. He placed them together; they had been cleaved from one whole and fit perfectly.

"I got you both halves." She said, "I thought maybe you could use them as book ends or something." April nodded towards his overcrowded bookshelves. There was certainly no shortage of books in his room, even if a lot of them were non-fiction text books. Make that most of them.

"I love it." He said happily.

He placed one down on the shelf beside him, and swiveled the other half around in this hands. The outside was rough and plain, the inside was clustered with magnificent violet crystals. They sparkled in the lab's light, the cut edge polished to a smooth flat finish. He ran his hand along its surface, the grain catching on his skin, and the points of the crystals biting into him like teeth.

"So this reminds you of me?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah." She reached over and gently tugged the tail of his mask. His felt his heart skip at the intimate gesture.

"Purple. Of course." He said.

"I was going to say your brains." She explained, trying to suppress a smile.

"Hollow in the middle?" He tapped his head with a closed fist.

"Scarily accurate, right?" she said, and he chuckled at the gentle poke. He went silent for a moment, touched by the gift. She was always thinking of others before herself and the impulse to do the same struck him.

"I want you to have this one." He told her.

April looked at him uncertainly. "Don…I couldn't. I got it for you."

She remembered walking the markets that day. She hadn't spoken to Don for weeks at the time, and in missing him terribly was drawn to the table covered in rock specimens, knowing instantly it would be something he'd like. The amethyst geode had sat amongst other colorful rocks and crystals from around the world, but it had spoke to her.

"It'd mean a lot to me. Take it." He insisted.

"Really?" April shot it an admiring glance and bit her bottom lip.

He nodded, "There's no point hiding them both down here."

"They're not hiding." She told him pointedly, but April had flushed with delight. She took it from him and held it daintily, her thumbs rubbing on the polished surface, "Only if you're sure. I guess I do have the perfect spot for it in the bathroom."

He cocked his brow.

"Just kidding." She laughed, "There's a spot in my display cabinet. I think it would catch the light really nicely there. And it would be kind of neat to think I know where the other half is."

Donatello, released a slow exhale. He adjusted his position on the end of his bunk, sinking into the corner of the foam mattress.

"It's funny. I've always really liked these." He said, picking up his half, and peering at its structure. "The slower they take to cool the more beautiful the crystals inside."

April held it only inches from her freckled nose, looking closer at the half he had given her.

"This one must have taken a long time to form then, the crystals are really beautiful." She remarked, pressing her thumb hard onto a sharp point of a large amethyst cluster.

"Ah, _that's_ why it reminded you of me. Thank you." He said with a mini bow of his head.

April blushed furiously, "Uh, _what_? That's not…" she reached across and slapped his arm. "Wait, did you set me up to say that?"

Donatello grinned, "I would _never_ do that to you, captain. I have your back, remember?"

She furrowed her brow in exasperation, her face still red. "Well, they _are_ beautiful, and I thought you'd like it."

Sensing her dismay, Donatello's mood became serious.

"They are. And I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She huffed.

April sat back down on his computer chair, which slid fractionally backwards with a creak. She crossed her legs and stared at him shake of her head. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for that one, but was pleased he had liked the gift. Donatello placed his geode back on the shelf, and she momentarily drifted off, looking over at his soft blanketed bed, feeling drowsy after their large meal. She wanted nothing more than to crawl in there with him and sleep…

She blinked at where the train of her thoughts had led her and tried clearing her throat in a paltry attempt to mask her mind's unbidden meanderings. Donatello noticed this change in her demeanor, and his eyes flickered over her with concern.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

She felt the lingering burn in her cheeks, "Ah, no. I'm just getting tired. I should…um, go home."

"I didn't offend-"

"No, no. You know I take as good as I give." she said with a reassuring grin, "It was just a really long week at work, I'm beat."

He momentarily captured her in under his intense gaze, then leapt up to grab some clothes. "We'll go topside at the first manhole and I'll walk you back on the surface."

April nodded in appreciation. Despite her bravado part of her was still a little jumpy at the thought of the foot roaming in the tunnels. Her leg had just healed and she was in no rush for a repeat performance. And the hovercraft after a large meal…she shuddered at the thought. Donatello must have sensed it in her before she even knew herself. She glanced over at him as he shrugged on a light jacket. _My Don_, she thought, _always thinking._

_My Don_, she mused. The strangeness of the concept sat right with her. The strangeness of everything about him were his best features to her – the deep green skin of his toned body, the beautiful coffee colored swirls that formed his carapace, his blazing intelligence, his kind eyes…Christ, what was she thinking? _Control yourself, April_, she thought anxiously, _it's been a while since you've dated, that's all_. Donatello looked back over his shoulder at her, and she innocently dropped her gaze.

"You ready?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"Um. Yeah." She hopped up, snaffling her things, including her half of the geode, and joined him. After many weeks on crutches and learning how to use her knee again, just being able to do that was a luxury.

…

Long after Donatello had left, April walked over to her display cabinet, a finely crafted walnut piece which sat flush against the interior wall. Inside were a collection of knick-knacks that reminded her of her life: her grandmother's miniature porcelain ducks; her father's favorite antique clock and Elvis bust; a crystal antelope with golden horns - a gift Robyn had given her years ago - S_he always did say I bounded around taking care of everyone_, she thought with a happy shake of her head, _April the Antelope_, she had often been teased, _who's going to take care of us now you're in college, April the Antelope?_ She smiled at the memories they brought her, and looked down into her hands at the heavy geode that Donatello had asked her to keep. She jiggled it in her hands, assessing the weight, and placed it on the middle shelf, taking up the prime position in the cabinet. She flicked on the interior lights and the purple crystals illuminated brilliantly.

_Nice_, she thought admiringly. _Don will like it._

She realized she had been staring at it for ten minutes lost in thought, and went and sat down on her easy chair, giving her leg a much needed rest. She curled over on the chair, looking back at the cabinet. The geode sat like a shining crystal heart at the centerpiece of the display. If that odd assortment of items truly represented her life, there was no doubt Donatello was a part of it. A big part. Her heart started beating harder at the thought. When did she start feeling like this? She frowned, her fingers tracing the scar on her leg. There was no one thing she could pinpoint, just a collection of moments cascading into one, where time and time again he was there for her. He was her rock, and without him she was just drifting. An insignificant speck in a big city. But she had always felt like something to him, and he sure as hell meant something to her. For so long she had fought it, safe behind Casey, but after a time she realized that she was trapped, struggling to breathe, and that all she was doing was shielding herself from the one thing she really sought. All this time...it was him. It was always him. And even though she understood their friendship as only that, he was always there, just waiting for her.

_My Don…_

She smiled peacefully and drifted off to sleep, charmed by the light fracturing into splinters off the surface of the amethyst, a wonderment of untold beauty. And as she slept she dreamt of him holding her hand, guiding her swiftly through the sewer tunnels and running down the narrow outflow pipe, her heart beating fearfully.

_Keep going_, he insisted, and she ran, the sounds of many distant footsteps catching up to them. _April, listen to me - it'll be okay. If they catch up, keep behind me to my left_, but in this version the tunnel was never ending and she was running and running as the footsteps behind them got louder and closer.

The shrill sound of her cell ringing broke into her nightmare.

April awoke in a cold sweat, and opened her eyes drowsily. She wiped the hair from her sticky forehead and glanced at the screen: _Leo_, and then the time: _3:19 am_. Her heart started pounding in alarm. She answered it with a quick tap.

"Hello?"

"Hi April. It's just me. Don't panic just yet, but is Don there?"

April sat bolt upright in her chair and swiveled around. She was alone.

"No," she said, her voice still husky "He left hours ago, as soon as he dropped me off. He messaged me from his computer so I know he got back." She massaged the heel of her palm into her eye socket and heard him exhale on the other end.

"Okay, he's tripped the alarms and I think he's sleepwalking again. If he turns up there, let me know."

Her heart caught in her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to think where he would be and felt panic slowly choking her as the image of the one place he could be entered her thoughts.

"Wait… Leo. I think I know where he is." the memory of her dream pervaded her mind, and a horrible knot of certainty formed in her stomach. "Did he show you where the foot jumped us?"

"Yes." Leonardo said with a minor sense of relief. "He took us down the next day but it had been cleaned out. Good thinking, April. We'll go and check it out now."

April's mind ticked over, she was much closer to where it had happened than the lair was, and knew she could be there in half the time that they could.

"I'm going down there." She told him.

Leonardo paused momentarily.

"I don't think that's a good idea-"

"Leo, I don't care. I have to make sure he's okay." She hung up the phone and stood up shakily, some small part of her distantly thankful she had dozed off fully dressed. She went to the kitchen and flipped up the tap, splashing cold water onto her face. She braced herself over the sink, catching her thoughts. If he had gone down there sleepwalking and the foot were around…

A cold terror crept into her.

_Oh god, Don, no. Please be safe._

She ran to the pantry and pulled out the bottom drawer rummaging around until she found her heavy baton of a security torch. Her heart delivered an unsteady pang – the torch had been given to her by Donatello. She quickly flicked it on and off, checking the beam's strength in her palm. With a final haunted glance around the room she headed out.

...


	9. STEPS OF FEAR

A/N: Thank you if you're still following along, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. As ever, reviews are always appreciated!

* * *

9. STEPS OF FEAR

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't afraid. This part of the city was quiet at this time of night, and the sewers even quieter. Her footsteps made loud splashing sounds in the cold wide tunnels as she quickly made her way back towards the place they had been ambushed, her flashlight cutting a dazzling path into the darkness. Her breaths were shallow, and her ears attuned to the faintest of sounds, but aside from some rodents scurrying afar, she was alone. A spate of recent storms had stirred up a lot of the rancid waste and the stench was cloying, but she barely noticed it over her pounding heart. If anything had happened to him…

She shook the hellish thought away, afraid that if she didn't block out the thought, she would fall down into a crumbling mess.

_If he isn't there, he may still be on his way to my place and we'll cross paths_, she tried to think rationally.

She couldn't imagine the world without him in it. Her memories of him flashed before her eyes, every time he had made her laugh, all the times he had picked her up off the floor, every touch, every smile, and tonight as they danced...

She stopped running as wave of despair gripped her.

_No, he's okay, he has to be, _she told herself resolutely. She started moving again, faster, with nothing but finding him on her mind.

April approached the juncture where she thought they had turned into, hesitating briefly. She couldn't be sure...everything was beginning to look the same as her mind struggled to focus. She backtracked in her head to where they had diverted off the main path.

_No_, she thought, _This is not right..._

She ran back, turning down the next juncture, and as she drew near she knew without doubt that this was the one. Her hands began to tremble as she counted down the tunnels to the place where they had absconded months before.

Finally she stood before the outflow pipe that he had lifted her into, her breaths shaky and full of fear. She hauled herself up using all her strength and rested briefly on the lip, panting. She glanced down at the grime smeared over her and snorted with disgust. Within moments she stood, half crouched, one arm against the curved wall, the other shining the torch ahead, and began to run.

Her nightmare came back to her in a flash.

_April listen to me…it'll be okay, _his voice said in her mind. She could almost hear the battalion of footsteps behind her.

_It's not real, it's not real, _she told herself, her hand brushing against the cold cement.

The pipe seemed so much longer than she remembered, the light beam not revealing the other end. Her footsteps echoed in the dark, splashing one after the other as her anxiety grew. Finally she reached its terminus and jumped into the larger main, landing with a thud, swinging the torch beam around in slicing arcs. The light spookily illuminated the wide chamber space, its span dissolving into darkness. Along its length it was dotted with the inky black holes of the other outflow pipes that connected to this tunnel, trickling filthy streams into the chamber. She began methodically moving the torch in a pattern, trying to find him.

"Don, please, where are you?" she whispered under her breath.

She slowly moved the beam, weightlessly dragging it one side of the chamber to the other. The water on the ground was low and sluggish, and appeared brown and foamy under the scrutiny of the light. April stepped further into the tunnel, swinging the beam around. A feeling of dread began to rise inside.

_Don, please be here,_ she thought desperately.

And then she saw him, the light revealing his body slumped against the far wall in a heap. It was the exact place she had fallen all those weeks ago.

"Donnie!" she cried, running towards him, the flashlight bouncing with each frantic step.

_Please be okay, please be okay_, she begged.

She fell to her knees beside him, the slush dampening her clothes.

"_Donnie!_" she whispered, shaking his shoulder. "Listen to me! Wake up!" She held the light over him, trying to quickly scan his body for any signs of injury. He was so still it scared her. _Please._ The dirty water had run over his sides and up his arms. She wiped the silty gravel from his skin, breathing heavily with fear.

"_Don!_" she whispered hoarsely, gripping his arm.

Donatello inhaled in a rasping breath and slowly opened his eyes, but his mind was still mired in his dream. April watched in shock as his mouth formed words independent of his conscious thoughts.

"April, I'm sorry… I couldn't save you." He whispered in a heart-wrenching tone, "There were too many." His body heaved in sorrow.

April stroked his brow tenderly. He was sweating profusely, drips running down in muddy tracks on his face. She had never seen him like this.

"Don! _Donnie!_ Wake up! I'm right here." She held his hand, her eyes burning with tears.

She watched as his breathing changed from a heavy pant into a light passage. Donatello blinked slowly, his eyes lighting with awareness. He blinked again, and this time she knew he could really see her. She gasped happily, and gently brushed his face.

"Don, are you awake?" she whispered.

"April?" he asked blearily. He looked around in confusion, instantly recognizing the place he was in- the smell, the aged brick, the darkened blood splatters still on the wall. Even the very spot he was lying in. He knew it all too well. _That blood is hers…_

"What are we doing here?" A look of panic came across him, and he jerked himself upright, reaching back to feel for the bo that wasn't there. His body ached and felt cold against the ground. He moved slightly, the muddy water lapping around his legs. "What happened?"

Relief washed through her in waves.

"You've been sleepwalking." she said, as an exhausted chuckle escaped her. She wiped away the tears from her eyes.

A strange look overcame him, as if recalling what had happened in his fugue state.

"April!" He reached out and hugged her strongly. "You're okay. Oh my god, you're okay."

She melted into the comfort of his arms, burying her face in his shoulder as her own nightmare abated. He was badly shaken, but alive. She finally broke free and held him back at arms length.

"What do you mean?" she whispered. "What happened in your dream? You're talking to me like I've died." She shone the torch down at the ground between them, waiting for his answer. They formed a tiny circle of light in the dark.

He paused as a troubled look crossed his face.

"The foot. We were here again and… I couldn't stop them." He dropped his head, swallowing hard, the memory still raw, the sounds of their clashing weapons echoing in his mind. "I...I couldn't stop them this time."

April was stunned, reminded of her own dream, and of the many footsteps of getting louder and closer behind them. It was almost as if they had walked in another realm, experiencing the same horror together. She grasped the outside of his arms and smiled at him.

"I'm okay, see? We're okay."

He nodded, "You're right." he said, quickly sobering up to the reality of the situation "But we can't stay here."

He stood up shakily, and lent a hand to lift her up. April wearily began brushing the dirt off her bare shins, shining the torch onto her legs by cradling it under her neck. He took the light and shone it on her, and she grinned back weakly in appreciation.

"April, I am so sorry." His mouth drew into a tight line, as the guilt prickled his neck, "I haven't done this since the warehouse…" he shook his head and watched her valiantly trying to remain together, "The last thing I wanted to do is drag you into this."

He didn't like being back here; it gave him a bad feeling that he couldn't shake, and without his bo he felt naked, vulnerable to anything that may be lurking in the shadows.

"It's okay, Don. I'm just glad…I'm just glad I found you." She released a shaky breath. By the look on his face, she knew he had not forgiven himself.

They began moving and he looked around the dark chamber, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn't believe that he had walked away from the lair, again, consciously unaware of what he was doing…and to _this_ hell-hole, of all places. To make matters worse April had come here alone. He was livid at himself. Again, his actions had put her in danger. All he wanted now was to get out of here.

"You shouldn't have come down here. It's not safe." He told her.

April's eyes flashed defiantly, "That's what Leo said. But there was no way in hell I was just going to leave you. What if the foot came back?"

Donatello looked at her firmly, "Exactly. You shouldn't have risked yourself like that."

She stopped in her tracks, her feet grinding to a halt in the gravel, "You would have."

"That's different." He said in a strained voice.

"How is it different? It's just what you do when you…_care_ about someone." She spat out, her cheeks flushing in anger.

"April…" he pled in a struggling tone. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. Especially if it were because of me."

"And what makes you think I could, either?" she demanded.

"A-_hem_," a voice came from beside them. They both swiveled around.

"Mikey?" Donatello swung the torch around, squinting into the darkness. It landed on his brother's form, approaching from the outflow pipe. Raphael was walking just beside him.

"The one and only, bro." he replied cheerfully. "Hey, April. I see you two made it out for the scenic tour. Enjoying the ambiance?" He lifted a hand, waggling his fingers.

"Heads up, sleepin' beauty." Raphael's voice piped up, flinging his bo out towards him. Donatello snatched it out of the air with a quick snap of his hand. He swung it back and attached it to his strap hooks.

Raphael tsk'ed.

"Boy, are you lucky the foot ain't around, ya practically advertising where ya are." He crossed his arms in front of him, amused at the spectacle.

Leonardo's calm voice broke over the ruckus as he approached from the rear.

"Raph, Mikey - would you escort our dear brother home? I'll take April back."

April and Donatello's eyes met each other in a deadlocked stand-off.

"We'll talk later?" He asked evenly.

"Yes." She answered with equal calm.

Donatello softened; he couldn't bear parting like this.

"Goodnight, April."

She nodded gently, her gaze still fixed on him. Part of her wanted to reach out and hold him, but she stopped herself, her temper still simmering. She turned away and headed for Leonardo's side.

Michelangelo gave Raphael a quiet snigger, "So that's what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object."

Raphael gripped Michelangelo in the crook of his arm and pivoted him around to face the lair. He delivered a quick rap to his head as he pushed him away.

"Yeow! That's getting _real_ old, Raph."

"C'mon chuckles, I wanna get back and hit the hay before the sun rises. Comin' braniac?"

Donatello watched as April walked into the shadows with his brother, disappearing within moments, their footsteps fading behind the constant trickling of water. He felt his heart drop.

"Yeah. I'm coming."

He turned on his heel and began following his brothers. Michelangelo waited for him to catch up, then bopped him on the shoulder with a closed fist.

"You know, I kinda like not being the one in trouble all the time. Feel free to keep going rogue, bro." He slid along the slush merrily, his temperament unaffected by the late hour, "And boy, does Splinter have it in for you – he was all like '_Where is that child, now? I will lock him up myself next time!'_"

"He's not the only one." Donatello said quietly.

"April? Dude, she's crazy about you."

Donatello turned all his attention onto his younger brother, his heart pumping.

"_What?_" he said through gritted teeth.

"Whaddya mean_, _'what'?" Michelangelo replied, "Y'know, bro, for a smart guy you sure can be stupid."

"No kiddin'." Raphael interjected, still a little bitter over his unheralded advice all those weeks ago.

"And look who's telling ya this." Michelangelo concluded.

"Even if that's true, which I doubt, that's not the point." Donatello said flatly.

Michelangelo jumped up into the outflow pipe with an unencumbered spring. He made it look easy. "Look, I may not have your brains Donnie-"

Raphael scoffed, hauling himself upwards.

"…but I don't know what _you_ think the point _is_. You both care about each other right?" Michelangelo pointed a finger at him. "Well, _do_ something about it."

Raphael snorted. Since the time he had talked to Donatello about this it seemed nothing had changed. He was still mooning over April from a distance, and trying to do the right thing by her at the same time. How he was juggling it all inside, he had no idea. It was sickening, and heart-breaking, and all the way back to sickening, again. It was little wonder Leonardo had said his 'spirit' had been torn apart. How could it not be?

"Forget it, Mikey. He's got it _all_ figured out. Doncha, Donnie?" His tone suggested otherwise and Donatello looked firmly at the ground, the streams of murky water between his toes suddenly interesting to him.

"It's different with us." Donatello eventually managed to say, "And I know what you were doing tonight with that dancing stunt, Mikey. It's hard enough without you reminding me there could be something…."

"More?" Michelangelo asked simply.

Donatello went silent, his head hurting, his heart hurting…and tired, so tired.

"Yeah." He said finally. "That."

He walked somberly the rest of the way to the lair, his brother's bickering over the route, but all he could think was of all of their collective words, and of the unmoved rock in Splinter's garden. He had resisted so long, not wanting to move. Stubborn, just like a mountain, he knew that much about himself. But for what?

He thought of April, braving the dark to find him, the tears in her eyes as she collapsed into his shoulder; and the utter relief he felt to know she was alive, that her passing had been nothing but an unimaginable nightmare. It was a nightmare that offered a truth that Splinter and his brothers had been trying to instil in him for countless days. Could he live by his choice, obliterating any chance of his most heart-felt wish, not knowing the path of an unwritten destiny? If his time on the Earth were finite, could he live like this the rest of his days without regret? Was he strong enough to face those consequences? He told himself he could. For her.

_As if she could even feel for me in that way, anyway. Look at me._ He shook the thought off sadly, lost in the hopelessness of his situation. Out of nowhere he heard his master's voice guiding him through the despair.

_A mountain is not often known for its movement._

But that would mean sometimes it _does_ move, he reasoned. Could he be brave enough to risk it all on a chance of happiness? He felt a wall clamp down within him, brutally shutting off that dream. _No, _it said_, You will lose everything._ He recoiled at the sentiment. The sound of running water suddenly broke into his thoughts and he turned on the spot looking for it's source before dismissing it as nothing more than the sound of the sewers.

He fought it still, and the harder he fought, the more he could feel her in his arms, dancing in heavenly circles beneath a galaxy of stars. And without even realizing it, there was a new unexpected flicker of hope in his heart, something that he had all but extinguished since his fateful sleepwalking episode to the warehouse district.

...

"He was right, you know. He was just trying to look out for you." Leonardo said, glancing across at April.

They made their way steadily along a familiar tunnel, the beginnings of traffic stirring in the levels above.

"Oh, you heard that?"

He shrugged apologetically and she inwardly cringed. The argument with Donatello resurfaced in her mind and she felt the first tinglings of her anger stir. She let out a huff of frustration.

"Look, I know." She ran her fingers through her hair, "_He_ was right. _You_ were right…it was stupid. But I couldn't just sit there and do nothing, Leo. And I'd do it again."

Leonardo couldn't help but absolve her irritability; the late hour and the stress she had gone through were probably not helping.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that. Because it really _was_ dangerous. Not just for you, but for us as well."

She bit ferociously down on her lip, and wrapped her arms around herself, her hands tightly gripping the soft material of her sweater. Her shoes were soaked through and the socks squidging annoyingly against their interior. She glanced over to him, two swords were strapped to his shell in place of where Donatello's staff would be. He was so similar to Donatello in some ways: always protecting her, always trying to do what was in her best interest. Sometimes it was just so exhausting. God, she wished he were here. At the very least they could finish their argument in peace. Or even just hold each other again...

She relaxed, her frustration dissipating instantly.

"You're right. I guess the last thing you'd want to be doing is running around after some stupid girl lost in the sewers if you're under attack."

"You're not a stupid girl, April. But I think you already know that."

She felt both admonished and calmed by his counsel. She stopped walking and he stood beside her, waiting for her to talk.

"I'm sorry, Leo." She said quietly. "Please tell Donnie I'm sorry, too."

Leonardo answered her with a calming empathy.

"He doesn't want an apology, April. He just wants you to be safe. As do we all. You're part of our family, and we look after our own."

_Family._ April ground her foot into the dirt, never realizing before that they had felt that way about her. No wonder Donatello had been so incensed.

"I thought that's what I was doing." She said frowning, "Look, I know what I did was not the brightest idea, it's just that…it's Don…" unable to finish her thoughts her gaze drifted to the ground. She shivered, cold and tired.

He watched her, the shift inside her that he could sense earlier apparent again, and bluntly came out with his question.

"How long have you felt this way about him?"

April swallowed hard, her neck and ears burning with embarrassment.

"I…uh. I don't know."

Her feelings towards Donatello had crept up on her without her even realizing it, the truth of it pointed out unflinchingly by Leonardo. It was all so clear to her the moment she thought she could lose him. There was no point in hiding it from Leonardo either, he would see through her like glass.

"I see." he said.

"Leo, I'm sorry. I couldn't stop thinking that the foot would find him first."

He rested a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Tonight it all worked out for the best. But we don't know if that will always be the case unless we're in it together. And even then, nothing's certain."

She nodded, "I understand." she said quietly.

"Come on, let's get you back."

They finally approached the ladder by her apartment, and ascended the metal rungs to the surface. With a heave he slid open the manhole cover. It scraped dully against the cement and rank air gushed up from beneath them pouring out into the sky above. She followed him out and they emerged into the darkest hour of night, the stirrings of city life barely beginning.

"I'm okay to walk from here." She told him. "You must just want to get back and sleep."

He returned her a relaxed grin. "I'm alright. I may just stay up and head to bed early tonight."

April looked pleadingly into his eyes as her stomach twisted into tight knots, "You're not going to say anything? To Donnie? Promise me, Leo."

He shook his head, "It's not my place."

Leonardo watched as she slumped in relief. She tipped her head back, her hair slipping past her shoulders as she drew in a breath from the alleyway around her. The smell of trash and urine tinged the air.

"Okay. Good." She said exhaling.

A moment passed and Leonardo frowned. April sensed he had something to say but was holding back. Finally he spoke.

"You should speak to him."

April nodded. "I just...I need to be certain." The last thing she would ever want to do is hurt him. It was all still so new, she couldn't even get it straight in her head.

"That would be wise." he agreed.

Without warning she dropped towards him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was initially flustered by her outburst, then soothed by her warmth pressed against him.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"It's…it's okay." He replied in shock. He awkwardly tapped her on the back, and she smiled.

"Just hug me." She laughed.

Leonardo placed his arms around her and gently squeezed. _This is nice_, he thought in a less formal part of his mind. Even though she was sweaty and dirty, she smelt good, like a woman. He realized that with just a turn of a dime, she had him at her command.

Finally, she let go.

"G'night, Leo. Get back safely." She stepped back and quickly ran to the door of her apartment complex.

Leonardo waited until he saw her enter and then headed back below. He swiftly made his way back to the lair, his footsteps moving soundlessly in the sewers. His mind turned equally fast for it had not escaped his attention that Donatello's sleepwalking coincided with the first time April had been to the lair in months.

…

It was after midday when April finally stirred from her slumber. Sunlight streamed through the window, and the dull roar of the city infiltrated her room. She covered her eyes with the back of her hand, thirsty for water, as her brain finally kicked up.

"_Don_." she whispered.

She reached over for her phone and saw no new messages. She placed it gently back on the nightstand. _What an insane night_, she thought - the dancing, the sleepwalking…the highs and lows of a single day came crashing down on her in the stillness of her room.

It was beyond irrational to think something could happen between her and Donatello. He had never led her to believe anything more than platonic friendship existed between them. But, oh, that dance. She could still feel the rush of blood to her head when he dipped her, held firm in his strong arms, his words playfully teasing her. She shivered.

_No, I can't think like this, it's foolish. Even he knows it. _

The cold, hard reality of the situation gnawed at her in fear. Another part of her knew different but she pushed it deep down inside until it protested no more. She was afraid of this part of herself, scared it was nothing more than misplaced affection. But most of all she was scared of hurting him, hurting herself, and the complications that would ensue if it all went wrong. April closed her eyes, remembering how safe she had felt in his arms after she had woken him from sleep walking, and there came a strong pang of hopelessness. Well, she'd deal with that once and for all.

She rolled out from beneath the downy white covers, and rested her feet on the floor. She slipped on her gown, letting the belt hang free, and paced restlessly into the kitchen. Within minutes she had made a coffee, her cell in hand.

She wiped her thumb over the smooth surface of the glass, and messaged Donatello with a rapid firing of her fingers.

_'Tell me something boring'_

She waited, looking down at the phone with an unfamiliar lurch in her stomach. It fired back with a quick buzz.

_'that movie last night'_

April chuckled.

_'Something else', _she demanded.

_'An m10 nut needs a 16mm spanner', _he replied.

_'That doesn't count. You love that stuff.' _

There was a pause as he responded.

_'I'm on kitchen chores tonight and Mikey's cooking.'_

Good ol' Mikey the kitchen hurricane. She giggled and took a sip of her coffee. Somehow it was working. Talking to Donatello about everyday things had always made everything feel easygoing and relaxed between them. It suddenly put their friendship in perspective. It was so precious to her, to think of rocking that boat was ludicrous.

_'What is this about Miss O'Neil?'_ he finally asked.

She paused.

_'You were right. Still glad I found you.'_ she wrote back, subconsciously holding her breath as she waited for his response. There was a brief pause as he typed a reply.

_'Me too'_

April released her breath, relieved she and Donatello had put some of the evening's tension behind them. So, he _was_ in some way pleased she had been there. It meant more to her than she realized. She blew on the coffee, pondering what to write when he beat her to it.

_'Felt like a princess'_

April let out a deep laugh, her head resting on the counter. God, he could get her going. She sat back up, still chuckling.

_'That makes me your knight, right?' _She wrote. Her phone buzzed seconds later.

_'Still my captain', _he corrected.

Her heart unexpectedly thumped. She stared at the message as the dance came back to her in a whirl. _Stop it_...she snapped out of her daydream and smiled as she typed back.

_'Talk later first mate'_

_'Later April'_

She tapped her cell on her mouth. This wasn't working as well as she had hoped. And now Leonardo knew…but even he must have suspected that she was hesitant of these burgeoning feelings. He had trusted her enough to deal with them, and she resolved not disappoint him, or more importantly, Donatello.

Part of her wavered, unsure of what she should do.

_This will come right, it has to, _she thought.

And although she always had felt a strong affection for Donatello, now it was unbalancing her. She let out a groan. What was she supposed to do? Avoid him? She remembered how well that worked last time. No way was she doing that again, it had been unbearable. She felt naked amongst these unbidden feelings, no longer able to temper them behind Casey. They coursed through her like a drug, and she exhaled deeply at their intensity.

_This is ridiculous, he's my friend, first and foremost, _she told herself firmly,_ nothing will come between that_.

And just like that she let it rest, a simmering of emotions beneath a thick blanket of restraint.

She looked back down at her phone. Maybe there was one thing she could do, to prove once and for all to herself that the way she felt towards Donatello was nothing but a fantasy, a relic of her time with Casey. Something that would sort out this detour of her affections.

She reached over for her bag and from the detritus pulled out a slim black business card. A cell number had been scrawled in pen on the back. April held it in her hand, hesitating, before finally dialing it in. She felt sick in her stomach as some part of her argued against what she was doing. It felt too wrong to be the right thing do.

_No, it's just how it has to be_, she thought.

Donatello had wanted her to, anyway…and maybe he was right after all. She began trembling and she screwed the card up in her hand.

It rang.

_If there's no answer, that's it, no trying again_...she bargained desperately with herself.

A man's voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Mark? Hi, it's April, from work…"

...


	10. CYGNUS

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this chapter, I've been trying to bang it out as quick as I can. I've also been posting update info on my profile page if I'm running behind schedule, as I'm not sure where to put that kind of news. Check it out if you're ever wondering when the next chapter's a-comin'.

NB: This chapter runs a little long, apologies if that's off-putting.

Anyway, I hope you are enjoying it and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Without further ado:

* * *

10. CYGNUS

Leonardo was stretched out on his bunk and flipping through the pages of his book when he heard a knock on his door. He set it down on his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you for a moment, Leo?"

It was Donatello. Frowning, Leonardo twisted around to rest his feet on the floor.

"Yeah, come in."

The door swung in and Donatello stepped inside. He closed it pointedly behind him.

"What are you reading?" he asked casually.

Leonardo glanced back down at his book.

"It's the account of a _ronin_ in feudal Japan. I like this one though, it delves more into the struggles the of his choices rather than plainly romanticizing the decisions he made. Some fantastical elements, but I think they suit the story." He marked his place in the book and set it beside him.

"Sounds good." he replied, nodding with polite interest.

Donatello's eyes wandered around the room. He rarely came in here, and it had changed little since his last remembered. The furnishings of his brother's room were spartan at best. His bed had been pushed into the corner of the far wall, leaving a large open space on the ground that had been bound with tatami mats. Opposite his bed sat a tidy bookshelf and a work desk where a number of wooden weapons sat in various stages of completion. The walls were adorned with several _kakemono_ - hanging scrolls displaying calligraphy, and his twin katana were sheathed within their scabbards and placed in a horizontal stand beside him, resting like the steel fangs of sleeping dragons. Most other things had been stored in his small cupboard, which Donatello had little doubt was just as orderly. However, despite its rigidity or maybe even because of it, Leonardo had instilled a peaceful calm into the room. A meditation candle flickered low by his bed and his eyes were drawn to the dancing of the flame.

"How can I help you, Donnie?"

"I need to ask you a favor." Donatello said at length, finally breaking his gaze from the spark.

Leonardo returned a wary grin, "What is it?"

Leonardo waited patiently as his brother tentatively assessed the space like he was checking to see if it were safe to speak. He couldn't help but notice the deep hollows under Donatello's eyes, like he hadn't slept in days, and had a fair idea as to what had been the cause of his fatigue: April. Only days earlier they had learned that she had begun dating someone, and although she had mentioned it in casual passing, she had seemed more than reluctant in revealing it to them. Donatello had taken the news without a flicker of outward emotion. His reaction was uncanny, like she had done nothing more than tell them the time. And despite protesting himself as unaffected, his appearance now spoke for itself. It was as if whatever internal battle warring inside was draining him of life, and that whatever he was fighting, was winning.

Donatello opened his hand to reveal a key.

"This opens my door. I was hoping you could take it and slide it back into my room in the mornings before training. It's either this or the rope. The alarms don't wake me and unless someone decides they want to watch me all night, this is the best way to stop me getting out."

Leonardo held his brother in a steady gaze, and crossed his arms.

"Back to Plan A?"

Donatello nodded determinedly.

_So, he's made up his mind_. Leonardo decided to test the waters.

"And what if I refuse?"

A look of pained distress flittered across Donatello's face.

"Leo...I need to sleep." he whispered hoarsely, clenching the key tightly at his side.

"I understand that, but this is like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound."

Bowing his head in exhaustion, Donatello grimaced. He knew this would not have been as straight-forward as passing on the key, and resigned himself to the inevitable scrutiny of his brother.

"It's not just the sleepwalking..." Donatello began cryptically, "it's the dreams. It's not like before." He forced even breaths, hesitant to explain his nightmares.

"What is it?" Leonardo probed, "Tell me and I might consider."

Donatello's looked up at his brother, a haunted look crossing his face.

"Every night I dream the Foot kill her, right in front of me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it." he paused, the pain coursing through him, "I can't sleep...and I can't stay awake. I thought maybe if I'm unable to get out the lab... the dreams will stop on their own."

"April?" Leonardo asked gently, already knowing the answer.

Donatello nodded, his body slumping.

_Great,_ Leonardo thought, _No wonder he's been like this._ He glanced over at his brother's wrist and could see new rope burns overlaying his old scars.

"And the rope?"

Donatello frowned looking down at the angry marks on his wrist, "It's tearing my hand off. These dreams are more...aggressive."

Leonardo felt a clench of apprehension in his stomach. In his mind he already knew that this was not going to work, but his brother seemed desperate. Desperate enough to ask for help, anyway. Something he rarely did in non-scientific matters.

"I'll do it, Don. But under one condition - if this doesn't stop within the week, we have to try something else. And there's another thing."

Donatello nodded, waiting for him to lay it out.

"You have let Splinter know." he said.

Donatello weighed this addendum in his mind. He hadn't even wanted to involve Leonardo, but things were slipping out of his control. And if there was any chance that these nightmares could stop, he would take it.

"Okay." he agreed softly. "If this doesn't work, I'll let him know."

Leonardo held up his hand and Donatello tossed the key over to him. It rang in the air before Leonardo caught it with a snap. It felt cold in his palm, like he was taking away some of his brother's burden. A note of relief seemed to pass over Donatello.

"Thanks, Leo."

"Just so you know, I don't expect this to work." Leonardo told him bluntly. "Nothing is going to be resolved until you confront whatever is causing your dreams."

Donatello breathed uneasily, the humor gone from him.

"How can I do that now? You know that she's seeing someone." he blanched at his own words, never before so blatantly admitting that April was at the root of his distress. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"I know." Leonardo confirmed gently.

Leonardo looked around his room as if trying to find a solution within its walls. To know that they both held affection for each other was a strange knowledge to behold, as it was something he knew that they had not shared between themselves. It was a precarious situation as he was bound by loyalty to hold their secrets, even though he could see his brother crumbling before him. And he would not listen, he would not risk himself with her. And who knows if there would be anything left when the dust finally settled.

_If he knew what she was feeling before she started dating Mark...it would kill him,_ he thought sadly.

Leonardo was still at a loss as to why April had so suddenly pushed away from her feelings towards his brother. On the night she had run into the sewers looking for Donatello she had admitted that there was something there...what had changed in the interim? Was she just scared? Or did she come to the conclusion that there was nothing there to begin with? Maybe Donatello was right after all, that their differences were too much of an obstacle to overcome. He sighed softly.

"You're right. The timing is not the best. But it just means that your choices are harder now. We'll see where this goes in a week and take it from there."

"Thanks, Leo. I appreciate it." his jaw set tightly and his gaze drifted back to the flame, watching it flicker and cast moving shadows on the wall, "I...I never knew how difficult it would be. Seeing her with someone else." he said softly.

Leonardo exhaled slowly, surprised by his brother's frankness.

"It'll be okay, Donnie. One way or the other, it'll be okay."

Donatello nodded, his eyes fixated on the floor. Tears stung his eyes but he refused to let them fall. If Leonardo had said it was going to be alright, he believed it, no matter how much his heart refused to.

"Thanks." he croaked dully. He turned on the spot and walked from the room, his mind lost within a swirling vortex of despair.

...

"Hold on!" April skipped across to her apartment entrance, her heels clacking on the floorboards as she fastened her right earring. She unlatched the chain and swung the door open. Leaning against the jamb was Donatello, wearing a neutral expression as he guardedly watched the hall.

"Don - I wasn't expecting you." she said, her head dipping slightly in pleasant surprise. Having come in through the front door was unusual for him, and she suspected he was out patrolling with his brothers.

He looked up, noticing her for the first time.

"_A_..._April_…" he barely managed to choke out.

He felt his insides constrict, stunned by her gorgeous appearance. She was dressed elegantly in a falling black gown that dipped modestly in the front reveal a hint of her pale cleavage. Thin straps ran across her bare shoulders, the satiny material almost skimming the floor. Her dress was accented by emerald drop earrings that contrasted strikingly against her cascading fiery hair, her bangs swooping in a gentle curtain to the side of her face. A delicate jasmine perfume enshrouded her and quickened his heart with a flush.

"Just the impression I was hoping for." She said with an alluring grin.

"You look…beautiful." He finally managed to say. "I'm sorry…this is a bad time. I'll come back."

April grabbed his arm.

"No, no. Come in." She tilted her head indoors, and he stepped inside. She shut the door behind him with a gentle click. Noticing how tense he was, she tried to assuage his fears.

"So, how can I help you?" she said kindly, her eyes sparkling merrily.

He cleared his throat trying to pass off himself as collected, but she had quite literally taken his breath away. _She must be going on a date,_ he thought despondently - the guy from the business card, the one from her work he had encouraged her to see. The thought struck him harshly. It felt like part of his world was disintegrating, and she the angel to herald in the end. Life wasn't fair, but when was it ever? Donatello clenched his jaw, trying stubbornly to get it together. Since she had started dating Mark she had seemed different, happy even, and wasn't that what it was all for? Her happiness in the world he couldn't be part of?

"Wow, I feel really under-dressed." he joked feebly. He glanced down at himself, bound in his regular knee pads and wrist-straps, suddenly feeling like a homeless person at the Ritz-Carlton.

"You look great, Don." she said, resting her hand briefly on his cheek, "Believe me, I'd be wearing jeans tonight if I could get away with it."

"That would be a shame." he said earnestly as he looked down at the ground, trying to focus on why he'd come here, "I uh…I left something, um, some tools here the other day and I came by to pick them up. I apologize...I didn't realize I was interrupting-"

April shook her head and clacked her tongue. She placed her hand on her forehead realizing what had happened.

"No, I remember...you left a message. I'm so sorry - this is my fault. I have this black tie fundraising event for work tonight that I completely forgot about. I'm carpooling with Mark and some other people from work...but they won't be here for a while yet, so don't worry."

She breathed in deeply, glowing, and Donatello couldn't help but feel a fleeting moment of insane jealousy. To hold her hand and walk outside together, to dine her in candlelight, to say she was his, and he hers - it would be a dream come true. One that he was destined not to be part of.

"I'll grab it now, and be out of here." He said briefly.

"It's no trouble..." she insisted, "But would you mind helping me with this first? I can't quite reach it." she asked. She swept her hair over her shoulder revealing a short unzipped section near the smooth nape of her neck. His eyes followed the curve down into her creamy shoulders, peppered with stray freckles, and he breathed in sharply, trying not to lose control. He wanted to kiss every one of them. He forced himself over to her, gently grasping the zip in his fingers and pulling it closed as she peered over her opposite shoulder at the floor. She smiled as it locked into place.

"Thanks." She released her hair and it fell in a rush of ribbons back into place as a divine aroma ensnared him.

"So, you think I'll entice some investors to the A.I. division?"

He blinked slowly, lost in the moment.

"Yeah." he said quietly, "They'll fall right into your hands."

"Oh really? Like this?" She playfully held her hand towards him and he accepted with an amused look, desire flooding him. Her other hand fell onto his shoulder and they began to slowly dance in time to an unheard beat. Donatello felt the world around him disappear as he danced hand in hand with her.

"No music?" he noted, his heart hammering at the proximity to her, "This seems familiar."

One hand had dropped to rest on the smooth fabric that clung to her waist, her body lithe and warm. The light caught the shimmering green of her earrings against the smooth line of her neck, and he felt his pulse quicken with each step, captivated by her.

"That didn't seem to matter last time, remember, Mr Maritime History?" she said shaking her head with a chuckle, her red locks brushing over her bare skin. The familiar lilt of her laugh put him at ease.

"I could never forget." he answered softly.

They danced with the grace and ease she remembered. April drew herself closer to him as her dress rippled around her slender legs like dark liquid. She smiled as the room lazily spun around them.

"I wish you could come tonight, Donnie. You know our stuff just as well as any of us in the department. " she told him gently.

"I'm kind of used to being on the outside looking in. My brothers and I have done it our whole lives." Donatello offered her a self-deprecating smile, "Besides, you'll do great without me, Miss O'Neil."

She frowned, her eyes searching his face.

"The outside? Is that what you think?" As they turned another slow circle she glanced over at her cabinet. "What do you see there?" she asked, tilting her chin towards her half of the sparkling amethyst rock.

Donatello returned her a confused look, oddly reminded of Splinter's question. He peered over her shoulder at the display. She had explained to him the history behind her collection of items years ago, and knew how much sentimental value they held to her. He noticed his own addition.

"The geode?"

"That's right." she said grinning, "You're already on the inside, Donnie - of my life, anyway. For what it's worth."

Donatello felt warm glow burning within. Her words were worth more than she could ever imagine.

"I guess I never thought of it like that." his eyes met hers in an intent gaze, and she squeezed his hand gently.

"Well, I thought you should know." she said quietly.

He gave a soft chuckle in return, "It looks nice in there."

"I thought you'd like it." she said smiling, feeling as light as air.

They fell quiet, lost in their rhythm; their movement a series of perpetual steps, forwards and backwards. She breathed out a silent sigh, relishing their dance as her heart pummeled in her chest. The way he made her feel when in his arms was so intense she almost swooned. She had never realized just how incredibly attractive she found him. Despite his unusual appearance, her body responded powerfully towards him. What was it about him? The smell of soap and engine oil? The calluses on his clever hands? The firmness of his strong shoulders? She wanted to know, to learn all his secrets...

She dropped her eyes, her cheeks burning as a shiver raced down her spine.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ she asked herself, but deep inside she knew. She forced herself to switch off the thoughts. _He's your friend, April. Your friend, _she reminded herself over and over.

Donatello remained silent, watching her with curious interest. Had she blushed? He favored himself with the thought and felt a strange sense of elation. She was so close to him, so beautifully intoxicating, that the impulse to kiss her was overwhelming. He could smell her skin beneath the perfume, and a strong wave of lust reared itself. He needed to stop dancing. Now. All this was doing was torturing him.

_What am I thinking? That this will end well? Her date's on the way over, for god's sake._

The thought made him feel like he'd been kicked in the stomach all over again. He broke his hand free of hers and held her out with the other as she finished the last of her steps. She spun back towards him, the dress flowing in her wake.

"Thank you, captain." he said quietly, as their movement came to a halt. He released a staggered breath, trying to break free of the hold she had over him.

"Anytime." she replied. A strange sense of distress infiltrated her, and not for the first time did she think she that dating Mark had been a terrible mistake. "You...you dance very well."

"You too." he responded evenly. "And you've been in high spirits lately, April. It's good to see." He was surprised to learn that he meant it, even knowing that it was Mark behind her happiness.

She dropped her arms by her side, her smile faltering.

"I guess I am... but…do you want to know what the weird thing is-" she began.

A light rap on the door interrupted them.

"Hello?" a man's deep timbre came from the other side.

April turned to Donatello, whispering.

"It's them...I mean, it's-"

Donatello nodded understandingly before she could say Mark's name. Her head fell down in frustration.

"I'll be just a minute." She called towards the door.

She looked back up at Donatello, her breath leaving in quick bursts between her slightly parted lips. His eyes fell to them, hypnotized.

"What is it?" he asked her in a hushed voice.

"It's not what you think ..." her voice wavered and she dropped her eyes. How could anything she say now hold any credence with him, with Mark at the door and her dressed as his date? She felt a rise of fear silence her. Donatello waited for her to finish but realizing nothing was coming forth, he spoke.

"I won't hold you up."

"You're not." She protested with a defiant glimmer in her eyes.

Mark continued to knock, the sharp raps setting her teeth on edge. April looked back to the door, the chain rattling with each of his bangs.

"Hello?… April?" he called out again.

"I'm just with a friend, Mark. I won't be long."

She winced as soon as she had said it and Donatello's mouth morphed into a straight line. _Just a friend_. He knew it was true, but it hurt to hear it so bluntly. She placed a hand on his arm, her fingers electrifying his skin.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." she said, her eyes brimming with regret. How exactly _did_ she mean it, she wondered.

"It's alright, April. Good luck with your night." He offered her an encouraging smile and stepped back from her and towards the window.

"Wait... I thought this what you wanted?" she whispered. He stopped short, turning back to look her in the eye.

What he _wanted?_ What he wanted was to punch Mark in the face to get him to stop that incessant knocking. What he wanted was her. He wanted her so much it hurt. But what did it matter anymore? If she was happy, who was he to stop it?

"I…I want you to have a good night. And I know you will." Donatello's breathing had shallowed, conflicting emotions running through him like ice and fire. April held his gaze in an indecipherable hold until finally she looked away, color flushing her cheeks, and he felt a reflexive hitch of anguish.

Mark knocked again. Donatello glanced over at the entrance in irritation, unable to maintain his silence.

"She said she'll be there in a moment." he called out firmly towards the door. The knocking ceased.

April eyes went from the door back to him, and she chuckled quietly.

"You know, I prefer being on this side of a locked door with you. Much more fun."

He gave a small smile. How long ago had it been now since he had been trapped in his lab by Michelangelo's practical joke? Months? It felt like years. He glanced over at her kitchen table, the irises long gone, his card still standing like a lone soldier.

_My beautiful pain_..._more like never-ending. _He thought dejectedly. April had started her life with someone else, and he was in no mind to prolong the torment.

"I really should go." he said levelly, his eyes locked on hers.

"Me too." she replied softly.

They both stood motionless, facing each other, neither wanting to move. Finally he broke the embargo, his foot moving back towards the window. April reached out and grabbed his arm. She leaned towards him and kissed him softly on the cheek, time seeming to slow in her lingering gesture. The tendrils of her hair tickled his skin, her bewitching scent causing his heart to pound like a drum. It was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her back. He watched breathlessly as she stepped away from him.

"I'll see you later, Donnie." she whispered, a sadness tingeing her voice. "Be safe out there."

Donatello nodded mutely, then ran and slipped out the exit before she had even reached her front door. His cheek still tingled where she had pressed her sweet, pink lips. He had forgotten why he had even gone there. He had been completely consumed by her.

…

It was late in the lair, and Leonardo lay awake in the silence. Every night this week he had been woken by Donatello crashing into the lab door in a sleep-walking state, and every morning when he slipped the key back under his door he could hear his brother asleep on the ground behind it.

_Soon_, he thought. It was almost as regular as clockwork.

As if on cue, he heard it - a large crash against the door of Donatello's room, then the sound of him slumping onto the floor. Leonardo frowned. Whatever Donatello had hoped this experiment would do wasn't working. Tomorrow he would need to let Splinter know what was happening and try something else. Maybe it was not what Donatello had wanted, but what had he intended on doing? Mashing himself to a pulp against the lab's steel reinforced door?

He rubbed his broad hands against his face, worried that his brother would never give ground and that he was destined to be plagued by his nightmares forever.

.

"Hmph."

Splinter's whiskers gave a subtle twitch as Donatello bowed his head before him, kneeling on the ground of his master's room. The space itself was clean and light, and the smell of burning incense lingered in the air. Having just confided the severity of his sleepwalking, Donatello waited tensely for his master's reply. His eyes remained glued to the ground and soon the tips of Splinters hind feet came into view.

"I had known of your condition but to learn that it is manifesting itself so strongly is of great concern. These things only serve to cloud the mind and affect your judgement in all things. It is a danger our family can little afford at this time."

"Yes, sensei." Donatello said quietly.

The woven straw of the tatami mats were pressing firmly into his shins, and he could feel them imprinting their pattern. The sharp pain was a welcome distraction to the low throb he had felt in his stomach since seeing April only several days before. Their little dance had caused his dreams to become powerfully virulent afterwards, and so real that in his dreams he had felt her warm blood on his arms as she slipped away in his hold. The anguish that it had caused had cast a shadow over him that he could not shake during the day, no matter what he tried distracting himself with, and for the first time the tools of lab sat silent. He walked around in limbo, too tired to stay awake, and too afraid to sleep. But before long, the week was up and true to his word Leonardo had directed him to Splinter, forcing him to reveal his nightmares to their master.

Splinter, sensing a hefty weight upon his shoulders, placed a hand gently on his son's head.

"Perhaps we can wield the stress in your waking life, so that you may attain a more harmonious sleep." he said aloud. He turned around and tapped his cane before him as he shuffled over to the mantelpiece where a framed picture of his master sat.

Splinter inhaled sharply, pondering his course of action. Donatello had only given a brief account of his recurring dreams, and was troubled by their nature. To witness the bloody death of their closest ally, night after night, would be an unspeakable torment. And to further complicate this issue, he was also intrinsically aware of how close his son was with April. But he also knew how much his son was fighting this path. Donatello's resistance against open communication with Miss O'Neil was having an erratic effect on him, to the point where his very nature was being twisted. He sighed heavily.

"I myself faced such troubles long ago when I was still quite young. To witness the violent passing of my beloved master brought me unsettling dreams for many years."

Splinter reached out and took the photo of his master in his hand, his fingers curling behind the frame. He peered at the smiling face of his master Yoshi, wrapped in ceremonial garb in the aging picture.

"It was a meditation technique designed to control pain that aided me in reducing the incidence and severity of such nightmares. Perhaps it will prove itself useful to you, too."

He placed the photo back down and turned around to face Donatello.

"Luckily, there was a cure in my case. Can you guess what that was, my son?"

Donatello shook his head in faint surprise, never knowing before that Splinter had suffered a similar affliction.

"Ah...no, sensei."

Splinter gave a fraction of a smile.

"There were four." Splinter said his eyes twinkling.

"Love is a more powerful weapon than fear could ever imagine. My master will always hold a place of the highest honor in my heart, but I will not let his loss let fear lead my hand into its shadow. I have already told you this, my son. And that you choose to remain there still, troubles me."

Donatello heart felt like it couldn't sink any lower.

"I would very much like to try this meditation, sensei."

"Very well." Splinter said in a clipped tone. "I know that you have entrusted Leonardo with the details of your dreams, and perhaps it would be best if he guided you through them. I will let him know."

"Thank you, sensei... I would do anything to stop these dreams."

"Really?" his master inquired with an edge of disbelief, "Is that so?"

Donatello braced himself for the onslaught of rhetoric questions and swallowed hard, a light sweat breaking out. He chanced a look at his master who gazed down upon him with an inscrutable look.

"Maybe I should have said I will do anything to _control_ them, sensei?" he corrected himself.

Splinter snorted in bemusement.

"Yes. That is what you should have said." Splinter leaned forward onto his cane, "You may go, my son. This meditation would be best performed closer to your time of rest."

He stood, the blood pulsing back into his legs, "Thank you, sensei."

Donatello turned to make his way out but in his haste collided with Splinter, clipping him in the arm with his shell. Splinter reeled, stumbling several steps before throwing out his cane to break his fall.

"Sensei!" Donatello yelped frantically, reaching out for his arm, "Here let me-".

Splinter quickly regained his balance and waved him off.

"Enough." Splinter said gruffly, "I am fine."

Donatello shook his head incredulously.

"I am so sorry, sensei..." Donatello said again, his eyes wide open in shock, "I didn't see you there."

Splinter ignored him, brushing the creases out his robe with his furry claw.

"There is a simple way to avoid such thing, my son."

"Look where I'm going?" Donatello ventured with a weak smile.

Splinter dismissed the remark with a twitch of his nose.

"Not quite." he replied, "_Walk_ where you are _looking._"

For a moment Donatello stared dumbfounded at his master. Finally he nodded in acceptance as a whisper of melancholy passed through him. He bowed his head, unable to look his master in the eye.

"Yes, sensei." he whispered.

He left the room, his mind burning up with his master's words. The thought of confiding his innermost desires to April echoed throughout his body painfully. His very soul thrashed against it, as the memory of April flooded his mind - her soft body in his arms, her dress like liquid gold, her tender kiss upon his cheek.

_I cannot go that way_, he thought despondently to himself. _I cannot..._

The sooner he could stop these dreams, the better. The dull aching pain he could live with, but to see the life drain from her eyes night after night was killing him. And if he could stop just that, it would be enough.

...

April glanced around from the post of the Maitre d'. The small Italian restaurant was tucked away on 49th, the outside inconspicuous to the passerby and the inside an esoteric balance of modern and antique furnishings. Large lampshades hung from the ceiling casting the room into an intimate yet casual ambiance and the walls stripped back to reveal some of the aged brick and woodwork. It was perfect. She spotted Mark sitting at a table near the front window and flashed him a smile.

"Please, come this way madam." the young host instructed. She smoothed down the front of her magenta colored dress and followed him to the table. Mark quickly rose to pull out her chair.

"Mark." April said smiling, "We meet again."

She pecked him on the cheek, and took a seat.

"I hope I didn't bore you too much last week at dinner, it was a wipeout in sales."

April raised her brows in a polite feign.

"No, not at all."

He nodded, pleased, and leaned back on his chair, slinging and elbow over the backrest.

"I had the urge to purge some of those KPI's, if you know what I'm saying. And I apologize in advance if I start talking shop again." he confessed with a grin.

"I'm glad we don't have deal with that over in research. How you deal with the constant stress is beyond me." she said.

"You'd be surprised how much I thrive under it. And I keep myself physically active as a bit of a release."

"I bet." she grinned, "This is a really beautiful restaurant you found here." April remarked, already trying to steer him off the course of work. She sat her purse beside her, and admired the fully set table, complete with salad forks and crisp white napkins. A small tea-light candle burned within a colored glass holder. "Have you been here before?"

"Uh, yeah. A few times." he said, glancing around the room.

"I bet the food is great."

"You won't be disappointed." he confirmed, "The linguini here is to die for."

April took the menu that the host had left, and began pilfering through the pages. Her stomach grumbled quietly at prospect of eating. The descriptions sounded so good she could practically lick them from the page.

"You're right. This does look good...I regret not being able to try one of everything."

Mark leaned across the table, lowering his voice.

"You looked stunning at the fundraiser last week. My only regret was not seeing you out of that dress."

April choked on a cough and darkened to a deep blush as a young waitress approached the table.

"Would you like to see the wine list?" she asked with a flirty smile, directing her attention towards Mark.

"Yes." April said quickly, "Actually, a gin and tonic on the rocks would be great."

"And you, sir?" the waitress purred, practically leaning over Mark.

Since they began dating, April had been aware of this effect he had on women. It was little wonder too, April thought. Mark was a good-looking man with a fine physique. His dark hair and casual suit that he had donned for the restaurant were an effortlessly winning combination, and he had attracted the admiring glances of many women in the time she known him. Why was it then that she felt like she was merely dining with a business associate?

Mark took the wine list from the young waitress.

"How about I order us a bottle as a chaser." he remarked jokingly at the waitress. He opened the list and quickly ordered a pinot grigio. As the giggling waitress left he glanced back at April.

"I hope you're hungry tonight." he said with a grin and a knowing wink.

She nodded, her eyes sparkling.

"Absolutely famished."

...

"Are you ready?" Leonardo asked his brother.

The room was dim and only the low flickering of the candle provided light. It danced between them throwing an eerie glow onto the walls.

Donatello nodded. He tensed and relaxed his legs and arms, preparing himself to hold his lotus position. Glancing around the confines of Leonardo's room, his eyes fell to the hanging scroll listing the virtues of the samurai. His eyes lingered on one kanji in particular_. Courage_. He looked away, feeling like he had already failed his brother.

"Do you think this will work, Leo?"

Leonardo shrugged.

"Master Splinter has guided me through this meditation many times. I find it useful for physical injuries, but for other things I couldn't say for certain. All I know is that if Splinter recommended it, I would put faith in his judgement."

"Okay then." Donatello said quietly."Let's do this."

Leonardo nodded in return, observing the defeated slump in his brother's posture. He would try his best to reach him, to break through his exterior, but could not help but think it would be a mighty battle.

"Alright, Donnie. Close your eyes and relax. "

Donatello shut his lids letting the darkness envelope him, as tendrils of aloeswood incense wafted around them. Already Donatello struggled to find stillness, and sensing his distress, Leonardo gently guided him back onto the path with his voice.

"Breathe in...then breath out. In for four...then out for four..."

Donatello dutifully followed, listening to his brother's voice like a beacon in the fog of darkness. His breaths slowly became even as he drew in air through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Slowly the tightness in his body began to dissolve.

"...focus on your pain, find where it is, and then focus on where it is in your body..." Leonardo soothing voice instructed.

Donatello breathed deeply, searching for the place where it hurt inside. He could feel where it was almost straight away, the low dull pain that constantly thrummed in his heart. And the more he was aware it, the greater it hurt. It was as if it had a hole, slowly leaking anything that brought him joy, and replacing it with an aching emptiness.

"Allow the pain to be, passing through each moment from one to the next. Focus on only the now..."

As Leonardo continued his guidance, his voice became a murmur and a new reality began to unravel.

Inside his mind Donatello felt adrift on his pain, clinging to a broken raft in the darkness as a lone star shone done onto the sea surrounding him. The air was still, and he faced the starlight, it's gentle glow lighting the peaks of the endless ocean around him. The waves rocked him gently. He looked around, desperately seeking a direction or feature in this place. But there was only him and the star above. The water lapped at his limbs, it was warm and inviting, and the urge to slip beneath and disappear compelled him.

"...allow light to enter the pain, let the light cool everything it touches..." Leonardo's voice echoed distantly. The rest of his words became lost, a whisper in the darkness.

Alone on the raft, Donatello concentrated his mind, willing for the cool light, and suddenly a cold wind began to stir. Clouds gathered quickly in the sky as the water became choppy, tossing him around like a leaf on the sea's heaving surface. Rolls of thunder rumbled in the clouds, the temperature dropping rapidly around him until it reached an arctic chill. Donatello gasped, as the waves sprayed onto him, biting him with icy salty teeth, before crashing back down into sea. The star above shone down through the clouds. It's glow began to become brighter, lighting up the world around him like a sun as the ocean turned to ice, first becoming slushy and choppy, before freezing into a flat white plain. He sat unmoving on the raft, the pain inside contained behind a wall of ice. He looked around at the change, the ocean now a solid glacier as far as could see, the star now a sun, it's cold white light illuminating the place into a painful brightness. Then he heard her:

_Don..._ her voice echoed throughout this world.

Donatello jumped off the raft, placing his feet onto the ice beneath. He went searching for the voice, wandering in the white, as snow began to fall like soft petals from the heavens.

_Don..._ she called again.

He ran, trying to find her, but realized her voice was everywhere. He stopped and spun around and there she was, far in the distance, a ghostly white image of her obscured by the falling snow.

He ran towards her, but no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't get closer. His galloping slowed to a stumble until finally he collapsed onto his knees in the ice.

_I can't reach you, April_... he buried his face in his hands in defeat as a ripple of pain coursed through him.

"...and breathe in...and breathe out. Let the pain inside lessen with each breath. In...and out..."

He looked back up and saw her standing before him, dressed in white, her eyes blank as her hair streamed out behind her. He reached a hand for her and she held it tenderly, neither letting go. He blinked again and she was gone, and he alone in the cold as the snow gently fell on him.

_April..._

Leonardo's voice broke through the icy cold, resonating throughout the world.

"...and when you are ready, open your eyes."

The world turned to black in a heartbeat.

Still sitting on the floor with his eyes shut, his warm tears began to flow like a stream, running down the cheeks of his motionless body. He felt his brother reach out and grasp his shoulder in comfort, but the tears would not stop falling.

...

April and Mark walked arm in arm along the bustling evening streets until they stopped by her apartment. People still in work attire streamed by briskly as they stepped towards the entrance of her complex. She glanced up to her window, wondering if Donatello had dropped by.

"Well, this is me." she said quietly, "I'd invite you up but... it may be better next time? I think the place is a mess."

Mark offered her a seductive smile, his eyes hazy with desire.

"And here I thought you wanted a nightcap."

April stood up onto the first step of the stoop and swiveled back to face him, hugging her arms by her side in the chilly night air.

"Listen Mark, I need tell you something-"

April's words were cut short as Mark thrust himself towards her, laying his lips on hers. April closed her eyes reflexively and felt nothing but his wet kiss. Sensing that she wasn't responsive Mark extracted himself from her.

"April." he said thickly, "Let me come up with you..."

He tried again, this time clasping his hand around her head and nuzzling behind her ear.

April inhaled sharply. Her hands went out and grabbed Marks wrists, trying to stop him but craving the passionate embrace. It felt so good and it had been so long...and as much as she wanted to defy his touch, she allowed it to happen.

_"Don..."_ she breathed. Her eyes flung open at her slip...

Mark brought his head back to look her, a look of quiet shock on his face.

"So, I guess that's what's been stopping us." he deduced quickly. He dropped his hands from her, blinking with a cold understanding.

April's jaw had dropped into a silent nought, "Mark, I'm so sorry...I was trying to tell you..."

He let out a snort of distaste.

"Someone you're seeing?"

April bit her lip guiltily and shook her head.

"No."

"An ex?" he ventured curiously.

"No." she whispered.

Mark stepped away from her, his face contorting into frustrated acceptance.

"He's a lucky man."

_A man_...yes, he was in many ways, she mused. Kind. Responsible. Intelligent. April dropped her eyes, her cheeks burning, as the thought of Donatello sent a shiver of longing through her.

"No." she said quietly. "I'm the lucky one."

She looked back up at Mark and he nodded jerkily. He took a another step backwards onto the footpath and flung his hands out.

"What are you doing with me, then? You like torturing yourself?"

A well of shame rose up in her. The last thing she had wanted to do was hurt Mark or think she was using him. Her dress flapped in the flow of the street's wind funnel, and she braced herself against the wind as she tried to explain the mess she created.

"It's...a little complicated." she said sheepishly, "I genuinely like you, Mark. And I thought if there was anyone that would make me see different, it would be you. But I realize now that it's not that simple."

"As a matter of fact, it really is. Life's too short to play games, April. If you see something you want, you go after it. That's what I'm doing here. Sales 101, Always Be Closing."

He breathed in and let out a deep exhale. Mark turned his head towards the busy world around them, the cars buzzing by, and the thousands of trenches flapping around the tired legs of workers at the end of the long day. He honed his attention back in on April.

"Forget it. It's okay. We never signed on any dotted lines or proclaimed anything serious. But I meant what I said about that dress. And if things don't work out with this guy, well, you know where I work."

He pulled out a packet of menthols from the inner pocket of his jacket and lit up. The spark blazed furiously as he sucked down hard. He held it in his lungs, letting the nicotine relax him, before releasing a stream of white smoke from his mouth. He held the packet towards her, and she held her hand up in polite refusal.

"Good." he said, slipping them back into his pocket, "It's a disgusting habit."

April returned him a small grateful smile, "You're a good man, Mark."

"Not that good." he added with an air of mystery, "See you at work, April." the cigarette dangled in his mouth as he held his fingers to his head and offered her a scouts salute.

"Bright and early Monday morning, Mr Cardoso." she answered.

She watched as he turned on his heel and dissolved into the hordes walking away. Eventually she began slowly stepping up to the front entrance of her building, fishing for the keys in her purse. She paused mid-step, the memory of what she had said in the throes of Mark's kisses burning bright in her mind.

_Oh my god, what just happened?_

…

The days passed by in a rush.

Donatello sat alone and stoked the campfire as the remaining stump began to burn bright and crackle. The light and heat flickered up towards him in the late hour, warming him in the cold night. The air was clean, the forest dark and lively, the cold stars were scattered above at a heavenly height - it was indeed a trip back to nature, one that afforded him the time to mentally unwind, to think, to give him space...

He picked up at thin branch and began tracing random shapes in the earth. April, Splinter and his brothers had made the trip upstate to camp two days ago. It was an inspired idea by April, keen to leave the congestion of the city, and one they had all instantly agreed on - a rarity in itself. It was a suggestion that had been borne, he supposed, by the fact that Casey was no longer around to take them to the farmhouse. So instead they had packed up their gear and gone renegade, taking an isolated and overgrown dirt track of a state park to the middle of nowhere to set up camp.

The last few days had been an exhilarating adventure - hiking along animal trails until their legs ached, swimming in the cool streams, and Michelangelo taking photos of every creature and plant he encountered. Much to his happiness, April and he had settled into a relaxed affability. She had spent a lot of her time sketching the surroundings but occasionally they would find moments alone, walking side by side through the woods, their conversation riding wildly along until she was in stitches from laughing. They were amongst his favorite memories.

It felt good to be amongst the trees again, and he could tell it had reinvigorated them all. Even their appetites seemed replenished out here as they devoured beans by the can full and eggs by the dozen to refuel the energy spent on all their activities. Today had been no exception, and the others had long since retired to their tents, leaving him the sole guardian of the fire, a task he took to with comfort.

As the evening cooled he had changed into some clothes - a pair of dark denim pants and a light gray sweater that slipped over his shell. He had yanked on a beanie and his feet were kept warm in boots that he hadn't quite broken in. He wriggled his toes in them, trying to get used to the alien feel of their enclosure. At least he wouldn't be walking in his sleep in them, he thought, because somehow the guided meditation had worked. He had cried like a child after his first session, unable to stop his silent tears falling as some of the pain he carried inside was released. That night he discovered that his recurring nightmare had finally ended, and all he had left inside was what he had to begin with - a longing in his heart that constantly called for her, something that he could drown out if he tried hard enough. And he could live with that.

He was lost in thought when he heard footsteps close in behind him.

"You couldn't sleep either, hey?" April said quietly. She made her way to the log he was sitting on, and squatted down next to him, wrapped in a blanket. She held her hands to the fire, toasting them gently in the warmth.

"It's too quiet." He said.

"Mm." she agreed, inhaling the cool air. "Can't drown out all the noise in your head?"

He chuckled softly, "Something like that."

They sat in silence a moment, absorbing the night atmosphere, a lone cricket chirping nearby. April looked up into skies above, fascinated by the spectacle of the millions upon millions of twinkling jewels. Her eyes scanned the expanse, looking for familiar formations.

"I can't believe all the stars out here. Sometimes I forget they even exist in the city." Her eyes wandered to the north, "That's the big dipper, right?"

He followed her gaze into the sky above to the saucepan shaped arrangement of stars.

"That'd be it." he nodded.

"I don't think I've ever really noticed it since I was a kid. Not even out at Casey's farm." she mused.

Donatello had noticed. He'd even taken out a telescope out there years ago, spending many a summer's evening gazing longingly at the stars, trying to map their names and places in this head. The crick in his neck he got that year was the one impending memory of that visit, or more specifically, how April sat him down on their last day there so she could knead it out.

"That's where I learned a majority of them. Out on the farm." he said looking upwards, the constellations appearing as familiar faces to him.

"God...you must miss that place. I still feel so guilty about what happened with Casey leaving. I know the farmhouse was one of the few places you called home. And now..." she left the thought hanging as pang of remorse struck her.

Donatello glanced back at her.

"It wouldn't be the same without you, anyway."

April snickered, "I really burnt my bridges there, didn't I?"

Donatello scratched a circle into the dirt, then a smaller one inside of it.

"What Casey chooses to do is out of your control. Besides. Home is where the heart is, and everyone that matters to me is right here in New York." he said, offering her a consoling smile.

April reached out and squeezed his forearm, then slipped her hand back under her blanket.

"Donnie, you always know what to say. Even when I don't deserve it." she took a deep breath and looked back up into the sky. "What's your favorite constellation up there, anyway?"

He smiled, back in familiar territory, "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Go ahead. I like your stories."

"I don't want to bore you."

"You know what's boring? You not telling me." she said, lightly clocking his shoe with her own. She glanced back at him with a gentle smile.

"Okay, but don't say you weren't warned."

April leaned on one hand expectantly, her eyebrows raised as she waited for him.

"I've always liked that one there." Using the stick he pointed overhead to where it was in the sky, outlining the shape of the outstretched wings of a bird, "The story is that there were two friends who would compete over everything, until one day, one of the friends - Phaethon- fell to his death during a chariot race across the skies. The surviving friend was devastated but the gods took pity on him, transforming him into a swan so that he could retrieve the remains of Phaethon from deep within a river. The love he had shown for his friend was honored with the constellation you see there. Cygnus. The swan."

April looked into the sky at the pinpricks of light that formed the swan, the magic of the tale coming alive and bringing a bittersweet sadness into her heart.

"Kind of makes you feel small, like nothing really matters. Except love, maybe." she said quietly.

Donatello glanced over at her, her cheeks pink in the cold. It was all he could do not to hold her right there, to take her in his arms and say that she mattered more to him than all the stars ever could. He swallowed hard, pushing the longing aside.

"I wonder the same, sometimes." He said simply.

"Sorry, I must sound morbid." She said with a grin, "I'm not. These last few days have been really nice."

Donatello stopped scratching the ground with the stick, and threw it into the fire. It flared up within moments and settled into a low burn.

"I have to confess, I thought you might have come up here with Mark."

She made a small soundless chortle and stared deep into the fire's heart.

"Mark? We...we're not dating anymore. Something happened and...well, we decided it was best if we just stayed friends."

Donatello looked over at her with growing concern, "Did he hurt you?"

"No! No, no. It was nothing like that. We went out a few times but that's it. It was - it just wasn't... right._"_ She said, struggling to find the right way to describe their brief time together.

A small flush graced her cheeks as she remembered what had happened on the stoop of her apartment block. On the surface he seemed perfect, but in reality all she could think of was who he wasn't.

"He kept trying to ask me what I liked to do in my spare time." April explained, "and what I wanted to say was - spend time with you...I mean, all of you." she added quickly. She shook her head, that didn't sound quite right either, "I mean...Splinter, your brothers and you."

"What did you end up saying?" he asked curiously.

"That I liked to knit." she said with a grin, "Can you see it?"

Donatello scoffed, and took off his beanie littered with holes from her dropped stitches. He placed it back on his head and patted it down.

"I can't believe you're wearing that, I was still learning when I made it." she said grinning as she reached out and tugged the beanie even on her side.

"Hey, it works."

She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and brought her heels up under the curve of the log.

"Well, Mark and I went out one more time after that fundraiser, and that was it." she shook her head, sighing, "I was confused and I thought I knew what I was doing. But looking back now - I don't know what I was thinking. I just keep making the same mistakes trying to fool myself I'm not-"

She stopped herself short, and looked back at him. A tremor of alarm passed through her at what she almost let slip.

"I'm sorry, Don. The last thing you probably want is to be regaled with my problems."

Donatello couldn't disagree more, he was elated, suddenly ten tons lighter at her revelation. But he couldn't understand why she had seemed so happy since she and Mark had started dating. Was it him? Had Michelangelo and Raphael been right?

"I recall Splinter once mentioning something about learning from your mistakes." He teased gently.

April watched the as the log smouldered in the fire.

"Well, consider me schooled. I'm swearing off dating for a while." she vowed with quiet determination.

_And there's your answer - wishful thinking_, he chided himself. He said nothing, staring into the fire. The flames danced in front of his eyes in a beautiful liquid-like entanglement that he found himself envying. An owl hooted off in the distance, and they both tilted their heads towards the noise.

"You know, I'd turn into a swan for you." she said with a hint of mirth.

Donatello turned to face her, looking her square in the eye.

"Really?" he asked as the corner of his mouth tugged up into a skeptical grin.

"Sure. Why not? I'd get a constellation, right?" she replied.

He chuckled quietly.

"I can't argue with that logic." He said with a smile. "Well, just so you know, I'd be a swan for you, too. But maybe without the whole dying part."

"Hm, that would be problematic." she agreed half-seriously, as she tapped a finger on her chin.

Donatello peered up into the heavens above.

"Well, what about this instead – see those two stars there? That can be the _'Campfire Constellation'_ where you and I just sit around talking about becoming swans."

She gazed up at the two bright stars in the sky.

"I like it. We can be arguing forever over who gets the most real estate in the sky."

"It would be you, of course. Why bother arguing for all eternity?" He looked back at her, his eyes sparkling in merriment.

April collected him lightly with her shoulder.

"Or we could, you know, just be up there shooting the breeze? Maybe telling the stories of all the other stars?" she said, grinning.

He nodded slowly, "Or there's that."

April's gaze fell back to the sky. She looked across the vast distance, wondering how the thoughts of just one person could make her could fill every nook of the heavens. Was he just always there; or had he flourished when she wasn't watching?

"Do you ever wonder if those two stars are looking up at us and thinking the same thing?" she asked with a sigh.

"Do I wonder if two mindless celestial entities peer up into the fathoms of space to see two beings sitting on the watery planet of a distant star, wondering if we are thinking of them?" he asked levelly, "All the time."

April clasped her hands across her mouth, smothering her laughter. Her head fell between her knees, as the giggles petered out.

"You are such an ass." she said between giggles.

"I try. For you, captain." he said with a hint of deviousness.

"Hm." she muttered, "I will make you walk the plank one of these days."

"Then I'm taking you with me." he said, his face suddenly serious.

April's heart flew into a flurry of patters. She breathed in slowly, trying to calm the spike of emotions.

"I'd like to see you try, Don. I know your weakness, you know." she whispered with a grin. Donatello dropped his head and gave her a small smile.

"And what do you think my weakness is, Miss O'Neil?" He said, realizing he had just answered his own question.

April's eyes flickered up and down his body.

"Boring action movies. Spanners with the wrong sized nut. Washing the dishes after Mikey cooks...and possibly kryptonite." she said grinning.

Donatello shook his head in surrender. She was fast.

"Okay. You win." Donatello chuckled.

The minutes passed by in silence as they sat quietly together. April rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the fire. Donatello reached over and placed another log into the hearth and watched as embers sparked up into the sky and drifted up into oblivion.

Everything seemed so perfect right now - the stars, April, the small fire keeping them warm... perhaps he should just say it, just be honest with her. Could he dare take the risk? His heart pounded.

"April?"

"Mmm?" She replied sleepily.

He panicked, realizing she must have dozed off. Donatello held on tightly to his confession, the wave of bravery receding back inside of him.

"Nothing." he whispered.

"Mm hm." Her eyes remained closed but she slumped towards him, leaning into his side. He remained still for her as she slept, her unmoving mountain.

...


	11. THE MOON ILLUSION

A/N: Sorry it's a little late. This one is also a little longer... please bear with me, I'm terrible at breaking stories into chapters and felt like these belonged together.

Also, the multi-talented SleepingSeeker has kindly illustrated a scene from ch 10 'Cygnus', please do go check it out at DeviantArt (sleepingseeker), then do yourself a _massive_ favor and read her stories here of FF! Brilliant stuff, I highly recommend the Tender Trap series (parts one and two), particularly if your a Leo and Karai lover.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please drop a review/pm or anything really, it'll be my bday wish come true!

* * *

11. THE MOON ILLUSION

Donatello lay on his side on his bunk, as lingering thoughts of the camping trip upstate ran through his head. It had only been days, but he already missed having April nearby as he slept and there again when he woke; of feeling like the world was theirs, instead of just hers; and that the grand adventure of life would include her in it always.

He looked over to his desk and saw it: the little drawing of the key that April had given him so long ago. He untacked it, and held it in front of his eyes. What was it for? What could it possibly unlock? The broken place inside of him that had been bound with ice? Maybe when it did he could finally sink beneath its glacial surface and disappear forever. He gripped the small slip of paper tightly in his hand and a slung arm over his face, blocking out the lamplight.

The trip had back had seemed so quick. They had sat disguised in loose clothing, joking about how odd they looked to each other, like they were off to heist a bank - and they did, he supposed. He had sat in the front passenger seat for some of the journey, April steadily driving as they talked about everything under the sun, moon, and universe beyond, jumping tracks like well-versed travelers. She was constantly able to switch him on, her quick wit and intelligence taking the conversations down mysterious paths that more frequently than not ended with laughter. As Michelangelo had dozed, she had been trying to devise several practical jokes in retaliation for the many he had pulled over the course of the weekend, including: stealing her shoes and tying them up a tree; putting a rubber snake in Raphael's sleeping bag; and last but not least, adding salt to everyone's drinking canisters - except his own, of course. It was actually genius the amount he added, as it was _just_ passable as water. Disgusting, but passable. And the aftermath was not pretty.

"...and then," she whispered in a low voice to him, "on the _third_ night, you replace the mannequin head with yourself and actually jump _out_ of his bed. He will _flip_. Literally _flip_. My cousin tried this on his brother, and he nearly soiled himself." she said, giggling furiously.

The van started veering towards the center line as she was consumed with glee.

"Whoa!" Donatello cried out in alarm.

"Oops, sorry." she apologized, quickly correcting the wheel, "But wait - I think we can do even better. Perhaps some _stealthy_ payback?"

"Oh, yeah?" he asked dubiously, "What did you have in mind? Remember what happened when we tried subscribing his cell to cat facts? That backfired pretty badly on us."

"Who would have guessed Mikey would actually enjoy reading those things..._aloud_?" she pondered briefly over the low whir of the road.

"Don't remind me." Donatello laughed, "We couldn't shut him up for days."

April chuckled with a certain undertone of depravity.

"Well this is _much_ better - it involves some fake copies of Mikey's rare comic books and some unrelenting torture, if you catch my drift." she said, a large grin looming on her face.

Raphael leaned over to the front.

"Sign me up. That little punk is goin' down." he snarled as he jabbed his finger into his palm. He quickly glanced over at his snoozing brother and turned back to them, "Maybe we should just throw him outta the van and let him make his own way back to New York."

"Too obvious." Leonardo broke in from the row back.

April looked at Leonardo in the rear view mirror.

"But it would be _so_ satisfying, Leo." she sighed. Her stomach still hadn't completely settled from his saltwater prank.

Splinter, made comfortable amongst the camping gear in the far rear, tutted to himself, aware that this was probably going to get ugly for his youngest son. Although a lesson in humility was a long time coming for him.

"My sons, Miss O'Neil. Please ensure that I know absolutely nothing of what is happening." he insisted from the rear, "It will make it much easier for me to deny."

They all broke out into a low conspiring chuckle, trying not to awaken their youngest brother.

April gave a sly wink to Donatello that set his heart fluttering.

"I hope you're in, Donnie." she whispered in a voice only he could hear, "Or you're going down with him."

"Oh, I'm in." he replied grinning. He would probably follow her down the road to hell if she asked.

It was evening when they finally approached the city, having timed this part of the journey to coincide with the night. Donatello had taken over driving, gently relinquishing the wheel from her tight grasp, giving April a chance to fall asleep. As she had curled up against the door, he couldn't help but marvel how his whole world was in this tiny van, flying down the highway at 65 miles an hour. He wished he could just keep driving forever, knowing they were all there, his family, together, safe under his watch.

Back in his room Donatello sighed. Only an hour earlier he had tried walking himself through a meditation, in effort to banish the dreams that thoughts of her could possibly evoke. To date it had worked, his restless nights succumbing to dreamless, unperturbed sleep. During the camp he had slept like a log, but he couldn't help but wonder if that was merely because she was within arm's reach at any point. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep.

_Don't think of her, think of anything else but her..._

It seemed only moments had passed when he awoke again, and although he knew he was not really awake, the logic of a dreaming mind insisted that what he saw here was real; and he accepted the new reality as readily as a child.

Around him a white plain of ice stretched as far as the eye could see, filled with the sound of howling wind rushing through the glacial crevices, the falling of snow obscuring the sky into a foggy gray mist.

_I know this place_...he thought to himself, but could not think why. He twisted on the spot, trying to huddle himself against the cold ice-laden gales. His first instinct became shelter, knowing he would need it lest his reptilian body began to slow down into deadly torpor...

Donatello's breaths left shallowly, the cold even reaching into the branches of his lungs as he desperately searched for somewhere to rest. He had almost given up when something caught his attention. On the horizon he saw a tiny speck, and squinted to try and make out what it was. With no other alternatives he headed towards it, his feet stomping numbly through the freezing ice crystals. As he got closer it revealed more of itself: rectangular, upright...

A door?

He slowly ambled up to it. It stood freely, unconnected to any structure, and unyielding to the wind. Walking around it, he noticed nothing amiss - just a plain, simple door. What would a door be doing here out in the open, he wondered idly. Instinctively he tried turning the handle. It jiggled but would not open.

_Locked? This is ridiculous! _

He encircled it again, trying to find anything remarkable, but it remained a mystery in and of itself - just a door that stood eerily in the middle of an icy wasteland. From the other side he tried the handle, and again it wouldn't budge. He tried to determine what purpose it could possibly serve, a door that blocked nothing and led nowhere, but any time he thought he had a rational explanation, the answer would evade him, slip out of his mind like a forgotten tune. He ran his hand along the wooden grain and could feel a strange vibration on the other side. Curious, he bent his head towards the door and pressed his ear against it. The sound of rushing water assaulted his senses, and he jumped back in alarm.

_What on Earth? _ But then he wondered if he was even on Earth, or just some strange place that existed for the lucid dreamers caught between the waking and sleeping.

He stooped down and peered into the keyhole, hoping he could solve the riddle, but all he could see was darkness. He walked to the other side to repeat the action, straining as he cupped his hands around his eye. Nothing. It was as if it peered into the black fathoms of space. Donatello stepped back and looked upon the door, frowning as he noticed that the hinges were visible on either side.

_That would mean the door would come towards me..._ _but also be blocked from swinging out both sides_..._that makes no sense!_

He felt a tingling sensation and looked down into his hand, this time noticing a small metal key pressed into his palm, one that looked identical to April's drawing. Intuitively, he began reaching towards the lock.

_Don!_

He swiveled rapidly around at her voice but saw no-one there.

"April?" he whispered.

He swallowed nervously, his breaths leaving in short shallow gasps as his eyes shifted across the windy white plains. Donatello turned his attention back to the door and reached out the key. It slotted precisely into the hole. He twisted it, hearing a faint mechanized click...and the sound of rushing water becoming louder...

"Don!"

He blinked again as the world of ice winked out of existence.

"Don! Wake _up!_" Michelangelo's voice called out.

Donatello's mind snapped back into the waking world, to the sensation of his shoulder being shaken violently. Slowly, he blinked, eyes heavy with slumber, startling back with a gasp as he awoke to his reflection. Michelangelo quickly swiveled around to look at Raphael and Leonardo with relief before turning his attention back to his brother.

"Donnie?" Mikey said urgently, noticing his brother swaying, "You okay, bro?"

The abrupt shift caused Donatello to physically crumple, and dropped to his knees, his face like stone. Raphael was on him in an instant, hauling him upwards.

"Mikey, grab his other shoulder. Stand 'im up." Raphael growled.

"Raph?" he slurred in a syrupy voice. He looked around at where he was...

"Just get steady there on ya feet, Donnie." Raphael said firmly.

"It's alright. I'm okay." he murmured, breaking free of his brothers' grip.

He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow, looking with attentive intrigue around cold cement chamber. It was a large re-purposed block that had served as their bathroom since they could remember. Pipes hung down from the ceiling feeding the sink that stood freely in the center of the room. A small cracked mirror had been attached to the vertical copper pipe that connected to the tap.

"What am I doing here?" his head bobbed fuzzily on noticing that his brothers had surrounded him, all with a look of curious worry, "Why aren't I in my room?"

Raphael's voice invaded the solitude, echoing slightly in the dank room.

"I'll give ya three guesses." he said dryly. "Actually, no. I'm gonna give ya one."

Leonardo, standing just to the left of Raphael, quickly filled in the blanks.

"You were sleep-walking, Don." he stated plainly, a look of mild concern on his face, "You got to the sink, and you kept walking around it. We didn't even know you were asleep at first."

"O-oh." he stuttered in quiet dismay, "I didn't know."

Raphael, for once, looked concerned. It was an almost imperceptible twitch that was quickly replaced by his grinding agitation. It had been disturbingly strange for him to see Donatello, the brains trust himself, walking around without the full control of his faculties, and he shuddered at the thought of being in a similar predicament. It would be his worst nightmare realized.

"Well, shake ya tail, 'cause we got trainin' in ten." he said shortly. He shot Donatello a dubious glance as he stepped out and made way for the dojo.

Michelangelo gave him a brief grin.

"Hey, at least you didn't get out this time, bro." he joked light-heartedly.

Donatello nodded.

"Yeah. I guess."

Michelangelo gazed upon him with an empathetic grin.

"Wish my dreams were like yours Don-Don. I'd put in _requests_, bro."

He slapped the overhead bracket as he exited the bathroom. Donatello watched him go with a heavy exhale.

Only Leonardo remained. He stood silently, carefully watching his brother before finally speaking.

"What happened? I thought that the meditations were helping."

"They are." Donatello corrected him quickly, "But I don't think this was just a dream. It felt different...like a vision. But I woke up before I found out what it was about, exactly."

"Good or bad?" Leonardo questioned with renewed curiosity.

"I don't know, Leo."

Leonardo gave a faint sigh and tried to wheedle more information from him, hoping that maybe the answer to Donatello's sleepwalking could be found within the dreams themselves.

"When you were there, what was it like?"

Donatello dropped his head as a whisper of the icy world bellowed through his mind. He felt cold its tendrils wrap around his chest and constrict his heart with chilled fingers.

"Cold. Very cold. Empty...strange. There was a door, but I never found out what was on the other side." Donatello said in a quiet voice.

_A door?_ Leonardo frowned. He knew them to be powerful symbols of transition. If Donatello had stood before the precipice of change, which path would he choose to walk? Or would he be so stubborn that he'd let his fear dictate his direction, pushing him down a descending trail of darkness. It seemed like a foreboding warning, and he refused to lose his brother like this.

"Don." Leonardo said sternly. "You need to talk to her."

A flash of repeal crossed Donatello's face, but Leonardo wasn't having it. He broke him off before he had chance to protest.

"Trust me, Don. You _need_ to talk to her."

Donatello held his brother's even stare before dropping his eyes. Feeling something in his hand, he glanced down, his face changing into that of stunned comprehension when he saw that in his palm he still clung tightly to the little slip of paper containing the drawing of the key.

…

Raphael crouched down on the fire escape, the dark shadows of the night concealing him like a tiger within its steely frame. A light rain had misted down only hours before and sheened everything with its slickness. It felt cold and oily mixed with the grime that coated the city and he was mildly distracted by its presence, but his churning paranoia had kept him on his toes. Alone you had to be twice as alert, because at the end of the day no-one your back but you. One slip up, and you were fucked. One misstep and you would have the long dark night of eternity to kick yourself for not taking precautions. He snickered wanly. If Leonardo caught wind he was doing this, he'd be shitting kittens. Too bad for him, he thought dryly, not everyone was content to sit at home meditating when all the fun was going down on the surface. Besides, if there was anything that made him exist in the moment, it was this - the chance to strike. The electric feel of the kill. He sniffed sharply as a cold chill passed through him, and dropped down lower to better scope out his target-

_Anvil_

Stupid name for a club, but judging by the people lining up to get in, very fitting. It's seedy reputation had grown like wildfire in the city as club goers were routinely robbed near the premises. And there was one name that kept coming up time and time again: Purple Dragons.

Music from the club reverberated through walls and he could feel it pulse through his body like an tired echo of debauchery.

_How can kids stand listenin' to that shit?_ he thought scathingly. It sounded like Flipper had been caught in a goddamned drum machine.

He tried to force even breaths in the cool autumn air, wanting to remain invisible until the time to lash out.

It was an easy hit for them, and even easier hit for him, as it would only be a matter of time before some doped up dumbass was lured astray by a nefarious low-life...and when they were, Raphael had given himself the unabridged license to go feral. For what good was all their ninjutsu skill if he couldn't pay it forward every now and then? As far as he was concerned, it was the scourge of the earth like the Purple Dragons that forced him into an underground existence in the first place.

From his position he could just see the club entrance. It was flanked by a burly bouncer in a shirt too small for his body, holding clipboard that he'd occasionally glance down at. The red lights from the foyer entrance behind him cast him in a demonic glow.

_Just missin' the horns_, Raphael snickered to himself.

The line had grown longer this late in the night. Young women in miniscule skirts shivered into their jackets waiting patiently to be let it, while young men reeking of cologne tapped impassively on their cell phones. Raphael's nose shirked at the wretched scent of Axe deodorant that wafted upwards_._ If only that was considered a crime, he thought, half the line would be rotting in jail. The bouncer tipped his head and lifted the rope, allowing two more to enter as a young black woman unsteadily made her way out, swaying on her heels as she made for the road. Another strung out couple, arm in arm, stumbled out, shifting towards him in the alleyway. Raphael looked again -

_Damn. That girl looks cooked_.

The man she was with kept coaxing her stumbling body further towards the dark recesses of the alley, but she could barely keep her head up. He watched silently, debating whether or not to just slash his neck for the hell of it. Suddenly, the girl came to life.

"Damir," she snarled drunkenly, "Let's just get it over with..." she began laughing emptily, then dropped to her knees and began fumbling his fly open.

"That's it baby, right there. You give it to me, and I give you what you want." he said, dangling a baggie in front of her nose. Her eyes followed it like a dog having a bone waved in front of its face.

"Hurry up." he snarled, slapping her cheek with the drugs. His pants slipped down his waist as she placed her greasy red lips around him. He tipped his head back groaning at her movement.

_Fuckin' great_. Raphael thought bitterly, just what he did not want to see. A wasted whore blowing a rat-faced axe wearer in a dingy alley. He was seriously considering making a run for it so that his dinner would stay in his stomach when he heard footsteps and the metallic slick sound of knives being flicked open. Dragons, no doubt. He could almost smell the sulfur.

_Four of 'em_. he calculated quickly. _Light work. _

The drug-dealer gasped as he saw the figures approach.

"Fuck! Get off, _get off!_" he urged quickly, shoving the woman to the ground. She gasped as she fell with a thump on her face, her hair flailing all over her. The drug dealer quickly fumbled with his drawers but before he could zip the fly the gang approached.

"You cut my _face_, you asshole!" she woman snarled as blood drizzled from her split lip.

"Be quiet you dumb bitch." the rat-faced man hissed back, trying to refasten his belt. He quickly gave up and began leaping back towards the club.

As quick as a flash the four thugs encircled them.

"Shut the fuck up, and look at the ground." one of the men hissed "Try anythin' funny and yer fucken dead."

The light gleamed with a cold threatening promise off his sharp blade and Raphael knew straight away that this guy meant to dance. He silently shimmied down from the fire escape, landing soundlessly on the alley ground.

The woman began crawling towards the safety of a dumpster.

"Stop 'er." the thin guy, the leader Raphael surmised, hissed to the man flanked on his left. The lackey he had just ordered looked like a sack of potatoes, brown and gnarly. He snorted as he swung his heavy chain. The metal whip struck hard across her leg, bowling the woman onto her back as she screeched in agony.

_Line crossed. Now time for a little fun_, Raphael thought with sadistic pleasure.

His heart pumped as he charged with the deadly accuracy of a silent blade. He rushed the potato goon near the woman, taking him down in a series of hefty stabs and strikes, easily deflecting his slow swinging punches. The goon fell wailing on to the ground, and Raphael lifted his foot and slammed down hard on the goon's dominant arm, hearing the sickening wet crack of breaking bones. The man moaned in agony.

_Let's see you try that again, _Raphael thought as his face scrunched into a wolfish grin.

"Get 'im!" the leader hissed, startled by the sudden attack.

Goon number two, a wiry guy with a chain, lashed out. Raphael knocked the flaying chain back off with his crossed his sai, metal against metal, feeling the clang of the shock in his forearms.

_Finally. Some action. _

The wiry goon flung his knife towards Raphael in desperation. Raphael almost chuckled as he twisted his body, letting it crack off his shell. It fell with chink to the alley, and Raphael quickly kicked it away, feeling a feel a dull throb where it had landed.

_Damn, that's gonna hurt tomorrow._

Seeing that he had lost control, the thug leader whipped the drug dealer Damir across the head with the heavy handle of his knife. He fell unconscious to the filthy alley floor.

"You, too. _Go_." The leader gruffly ordered his remaining goon.

Raphael waited readily as the last goon made the bad decision to take him on. This..._this_ is what Leonardo didn't get about him. It was in the battle he become one with the moment, the thrill of the strike, of the kill. He lived for it.

Now two chain-wielding goons were swinging metal at him. Raphael ducked and jumped, barely missing their heavy lash. He grunted as he pounded towards goon number four, trying to use his body as a shield. It worked, the wiry guy flinging out his lash and mistakenly striking his compatriot's temple. He dropped like a sack, and quick as a flash Raphael sprung over to the wiry guy and pushed him up against the wall by his throat.

"Say goodbye to ya chain swingin' days, motherfucker." Raphael snarled with disturbed pleasure, raising his sai. Then he heard it.

_ Click._

The unmistakable sound of a gun cock. Raphael froze, his eyes wildly shifting in their sockets.

_Shit... _

"Put it down, freak, and I'll make it quick." the leader said in a venom filled hiss. The wiry goon, held under his choking grip, wriggled free and stumbled forward, coughing violently and gasping for air.

Raphael knew he had only moments. He was not going down like this.

"Guess yer gonna hafta make it _slow_ then." he snarled, still facing the brick wall.

Out of nowhere, a new cry wailed in the air.

"DUCK!"

_Casey?! _

The sounds of a swinging stick striking metal echoed in the air, but the leader had already squeezed the trigger. Raphael dropped instantly, as the crack of gunfire blasted behind him. He was not quick enough - the bullet blowing off a fist-sized chunk off the outer rim of his carapace. Pain ripped through his back, but it barely registered as Raphael flicked modes, roaring with fury as he lunged sai first towards the ringleader, his mind blazing like a firebomb. He twirled his sai with a quick flick of his wrist and plunged the points deep into the ringleaders leg.

The impaled man released a blood curdling squeal, falling wounded to the ground as blood spurted messily from his thigh. Raphael grinned. True to his old battle strategy promise with Casey, any guns brought to the fight were met with the promise of hand breakage. And now it was time to pay the piper.

Swiftly, Raphael jumped, landing heavily on the curled paws of the leader. The bones broke as easily as bird's wing under a stone, and the leader began screaming afresh.

Raphael swiveled in an instant, heading for the original potato sack thug that had flanked the leader's left, but he had long since bolted.

Just beside him, Casey was gaining ground in his battle, and had begun swinging his beloved hockey stick at the wiry goon's gut. The man doubled over in agony and Casey grunted lowly as he cracked the stick on the goon's head. The wiry goon didn't stand a chance, collapsing motionless onto the cement.

"Take _that_, scumbag!" Casey snarled triumphantly.

Moments later a car roared down the alley. The ringleader somehow managed to hop up and throw himself into the passenger seat. Casey began chase, smacking the boot with his hockey stick, ripping dents into the steel.

"And stay the HELL away! Or there's more of _THAT_." he screamed. As the car sped away, he snorted angrily, and headed back over to Raphael.

They stood in silence a moment. Raphael brushed off a crumb of gravel from his shoulder, his shell throbbing painfully. He glanced over at Casey who had lifted his hockey mask off his face to rest on his head like a stiff plastic beret.

"Well it's about _time_ ya decided to show up, Case." he growled happily, as he swung a friendly punch into his shoulder.

"Hey, someone had to come along an' save yer sorry ass." Casey said grinning, returning the blow to Raphael's arm. Raphael braced himself against the force of the punch and looked down agitatedly to where it landed.

"Save _my_ ass? How about all the times I saved _your _ass, ya knucklehead?" he growled, throwing back another punch on his arm. It hit the sweet spot of his bicep firmly, and a dull pain rippled down Casey's arm.

"I think ya got ya _wires_ crossed, chrome dome. I distinctly recall stoppin' a bullet from enterin' ya big fat skull. And that makes me one up on you in my book. " Casey snickered as he jabbed him back in the shoulder.

A beat passed , their faces frozen in barely suppressed irritation, before they hurled towards each other with swinging fists.

Raphael, well trained in these kinds of attacks, faked out and ducked at the last moment, skidding forward into Casey's legs. Casey flipped over his shell and landed with a thump on the ground onto his back. Seizing his chance, Raphael threw himself into the air and landed elbow first towards his stomach.

"_OOmph_." Casey grunted painfully, winded by his hefty weight, "Okay! I give ya jackass."

_"Say it."_ Raphael snarled.

"Uncle! UNCLE! _Sheesh!_" Casey fired out. Raphael hopped off as Casey groped the ground and hauled himself back onto his feet, catching his breath. "Ya lucky I'm outta practise." he wheezed, clutching at his knees.

"Keep tellin' yerself that, Case." Raphael said with a snide grin. Although, in truth, Casey looked fitter and tanner that ever. Well, farmer tanned, anyway. All that time out in the hinterlands must've done him some good.

"Ya plannin' on stickin' around?"

Casey snickered, and stood upright, "Yeah. This dump's my home, no matter how much it sucks ta admit it."

"Hey," Raphael growled jubilantly, "That's good news, man. It was gettin' _real_ borin' around here."

"Ya seemed ta be keepin yerself busy enough." Casey said, swooping his stick around the alley.

"Yeah. Well." Raphael grunted abstractly, leaving out all the bits that didn't need to be said.

"Yeah." Casey grunted in reply, as one corner of his mouth stretched into a crooked smile.

Raphael brushed off the sentimentality as quick as he could.

"What are ya doin' back here, anyway? Thought ya'd gone native."

"C'mon buddy... ya know ya couldn't live without me. " Casey snickered, holding out his closed fist.

Raphael clocked it firmly with his own fist and chuckled. "I wouldn't go that far, Case. Gotta say though, bein' away looks like it's done ya some good."

It was a vast understatement. Casey's eyes seemed clear and stable, and his ever present nervous twitch had vanished and replaced with - dare he say it - a more relaxed demeanor?

Casey nodded and rolled his shoulders back, his spine giving an audible series of pops.

"Yeah." Casey nodded. "I'm _feelin'_ good, man. Like I'm ready for round two, y'know? Or is it three or four by now?" he reached back and slotted his hockey stick behind him,"So, how's things blowin' in the Big Apple?"

Raphael blanked. The last thing he wanted to do was mention April, but ironically it was all that sprung to mind.

"Same ol', same'ol." he said at last. He quickly tried to change topics, "How the hell did ya know I was gonna be here, anyway?"

Casey shrugged, "The homeless kid, Anton. He said ya'd been on his tail askin 'bout this place."

"Yeah. Purple Dragon's. Haven't seen those bozos around here in a while."

"Nasty motherfuckers, aren't they?" Casey snarled.

"You know it, buddy." Raphael said gleefully, "That's why they're so fun to bust up."

He reached back to tenderly feel how bad the damage to his shell was. It hurt bad, and knew the cracks ran deep. He also blatantly aware that it didn't look pretty and that the others were bound to notice. Great. Just what he needed. More lectures from Splinter Junior. A cold chill passed through him when he realized how close he'd come to taking a bullet to the head, and he quickly tried to quash the pointless worry.

"If ya see that bit of shell that asshole shot off, tell me. I'm gonna glue it back on."

"You can do that?"

"Sure. I guess. I dunno." Raphael replied hesitantly.

Casey's train of thoughts broke away as his eyes shifted around the dark alley, briefly scanning the three crumpled bodies on the ground. He swiveled on his boot heel and hooted with laughter loudly into the night air, holding out his arms as if absorbing the dank atmosphere through his skin.

"It's _good _to be back, Raphie. There's _one_ thing I forgot about livin' out on the farm."

"Yeah?" Raphael quizzed, taking the bait, "What's that?"

With the impeccable timing of a master, Casey cracked his knuckles.

"It's in the middle of goddamn_ nowhere._" he retorted with a grin.

Raphael snorted in mild amusement before a skin peeling screech broke out.

They whipped their heads around as the woman started stirring from her huddled position behind the dumpster. She walked over to Damir, lying sprawled out and unconscious on the ground.

"_Bitch!"_ she screamed at his still body as blood dribbled down her chin. She spat a wad of bloody phlegm on him, then struck by inspiration, crouched down and dug through his windbreaker for the little baggies of mephedrone he had stashed inside the inner lining.

"Fuck you_! Fuck you_! Fuckin' bust _my_ face up you fuckin' pervert _asshole_." she screeched furiously. She heftily kicked him in the ribs with her heels then shoved her score down her bra. She glassily glanced over Raphael and Casey and began teetering back towards the club entrance. Unexpectedly, she paused by Raphael, tossing him his broken-off chunk of carapace. Raphael snatched it quickly out of the air.

"Thanks." she mumbled, without even a flicker of acknowledgement at his strange appearance. They watched her go, a little taken aback by her aggression.

"_Jesus_." Raphael muttered in shock. He'd never quite had that reaction before. A lot of fearful screams, some tears, and more death threats than he cared to remember. But _thanks_?

"Brooklyn girls. Gotta love 'em." Casey said admiringly. "Come on, Raphie. Let's book before people start gettin' curious. Or worse, she comes back and asks ya fer a date."

Raphael nodded numbly as they sprinted towards the rooves, Casey in tow, cackling manically behind him.

…

Splinter headed to his courtyard in the early hours of the morning, the beauty of the greenery in the dawns early rays always managing to soothe his soul in way their gadget infested borough never could. He slid open the cement wall to enter the garden premises, and raised his wispy brows in surprise at the sight before him.

Overnight the basin had flooded and spilled a stream of water that had made its winding way along the pale pebbles to the mountain stone. Water had pooled around the upright piece of basalt giving it the appearance of an island at sea. The flood of water had also decimated the irises that had sat at the foot of the basin, and had carried the wayward petals down the stream to gather around the mountain stone like tiny violet boats.

He was delighted by the emergence of the new scenic miniature, reminded of the beautiful fishing village on the island close to his master's home.

"Interesting." He mumbled to himself.

Despite the almost insurmountable barriers, somehow they had found each other. Unexpectedly and suddenly. And the outcome was very beautiful indeed.

The garden was in the midst of change.

…

Donatello had arrived at April's only hours earlier, clean, warm, and his brain buzzing with conflicting thoughts, but she accosted him before he even had the chance to say a word.

"I'm picking your beautiful brain tonight Donnie, I'm stumped at work and I know you'll give me some kind of insight. So prepare yourself, this is going to be a long and boring night."

He had nodded with a grin, glad that she so easily put him at ease. After a quick meal, where they had talked fondly of the camping trip and Michelangelo's impending payback, they headed to the living room and sat down at the low coffee table amidst the battlefield of pharmaceutical reports. The time had passed rapidly as she attentively listened to his suggestions, and offered her own explanations at the intricacies of her latest project.

April tapped her pencil absently on the table.

"If you turn to page three you can see the results, and as you can probably tell, it's not quite what I was anticipating." she said, flipping through her small bundle of papers to the results section.

She paused and got up to change her sitting position on the floor, setting both her legs to one side. It was at least the tenth time she had moved in the last half hour and Donatello flicked his eyes up at her from the other side of the table.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I just can't get comfortable." she muttered. She reached behind her, grabbed a pillow from the couch and tried sitting on it. Unable to adjust herself to her satisfaction, she threw it back, fidgeting discontentedly.

"Is it your leg?"

April glanced up at him.

"Ah...no. My leg's great." she said, offering him a reassuring grin. She rose to her haunches in a crouch and tried kneeling on the floor. "I just can't stop _squirming._" she said trailing off.

He watched curiously as she hooked her arm behind her hair and swooped it all to one side before picking up her pencil and biting it aggressively. Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she spat it out and offered him an apologetic grin.

"Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight."

"We've been at this for hours. How about we give this a rest?" he suggested, placing the file he was holding down onto the table, "You can stretch out on the couch, maybe watch a movie?"

"You know what, that sounds like a really good idea...just as soon as we finish this last report. I've been dying to hear what you have to say about it all day."

Donatello picked his folder back up.

"Sure. No problem. But keep doing that and I'm going to have to hold you down." he said with a trace of a smile.

April dropped her head and gave a silent chuckle, "I'd like to see you try that, Don." she murmured under her breath.

"Hm?" he asked, looking back up at her with a spark of humor in his eyes, "What was that?"

April froze, before dipping her head behind her sheets of paper.

"Ah...nothing. Okay, how about compound 523? You can see that there's a statistical error within-"

April stopped talking and tilted her weight to shift her legs under the coffee table, coming out on Donatello's side. He briefly glanced down at her feet and back up to her with vague concern.

"-within range, but I need to build up the ANN hierarchy to get it to formulate bio-availability at least fifteen percent higher than what it's producing -"

She paused again to move a leg under her knee. Finally at breaking point, Donatello hand darted out to grasp her ankle and gently held it still, his eyes still firmly on his report papers. April looked back up at him in surprise and began laughing.

"-across the class." she finished up with a chuckle. She snapped her folder shut, "Okay! You're right! No more tonight."

He released her ankle with a smirk as she placed her own book down. She left her legs by him and stared down at the coffee table with a deep inhale, and splayed her hands out behind her. Whatever he just did had worked. His touch had sent a warm thrill running through her that settled her into a languid calm.

"So, you want to watch a movie or something, hey?" she asked at length, tilting her head slightly to the left as she narrowed her eyes.

Donatello shrugged, leaning forward onto the coffee table, resting his elbows on its edge as he folded his arms. She looked good tonight just in her sweater and tight jeans. Her red curls tumbled down her shoulders and her smell...god, he could drown in it.

"Not really. I was being plenty entertained right here."

"I'm glad I _amuse_ you."

"So am I." he replied with a chuckle.

Indignant, April pressed her lips together and smacked her foot lightly across his thigh. Donatello caught it and held it still against his leg, watching closely for her reaction. April's pupils dilated as he slowly released her leg.

_I don't think so, Don..._

She swung her foot towards him again. He grabbed it and carefully pulled her closer, dragging her barely an inch towards the coffee table. She gasped in surprise as she slid along the ground, like she weighed nothing to him. He let her go abruptly and she grinned back with an air of mischief.

"What are you going to do now, Donnie? Drag me under the table?"

"If I have to." he threatened with a glint in his eye.

April rose to the challenge, again striking out with her foot. Donatello lifted himself from the floor, making as if he was going to lunge and April shrieked in amusement, drawing her legs back under the table and towards herself.

"Okay! I give!" she laughed.

Donatello dropped himself back onto the ground with a victorious grin.

"You can't win them all, Miss O'Neil."

"I can try, can't I?" she giggled.

"You certainly can." he confirmed. He inhaled sharply as he watched the flush rise on her cheeks.

"So what does that make it now?" she asked grinning, "A thousand to one?"

Donatello lifted his brow skeptically, "I was thinking more like _ten_ thousand to one."

"My way?"

"Naturally." he replied.

"I tossed you a bone." she lied, biting her lower lip in complete farce. "You were due."

"Is that what you called that?" he said grinning back at her. They held each others gaze in rapt attention before he dropped his eyes onto the stack of papers in front of him.

"Come on, let's finish this report. I have a few ideas, anyway."

April sighed.

"Well...since you put it like that." she picked up her folder and turned to where they had left off.

There was a sudden flicker of lights and the sound of power releasing an exhausted drone as the room dimmed into darkness. They sat surprised in the in the inky blackness, unable to even see their hands in front of their face.

"Oh great." she muttered, looking around into the nothingness, "Do you think it's just us?"

Donatello turned his head, straining to hear, "I don't think so."

"Are you alright?" April said in to the dark. She instinctively reached for her cell, remembering it was sitting uncharged on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah. You?" he asked. Donatello could hear her breathing in the dark, the sound of her heart beating, the shuffling of her legs on the ground, and the smell of jasmine made sweeter by her warm pulse.

"Mm-hm."

"My cell's flat, too. And I'm guessing the batteries from your flashlight are still dead from the camping trip?" he added, reading her thoughts.

"Yeah." she gave a small chuckle, "Well it looks like we'll be sitting in the dark for a while."

"It does look like that." he agreed. Donatello's heart thudded, safe in the shadows.

"Y'know...we really have to stop meeting like this." she said, her voice clear in the darkness

There were a few moments of silence with nothing but the ambient drone of the air in the space of the room, and she wondered if he was even there at all.

"The darkness isn't all bad." he finally said, smiling.

"I guess not." April drew her legs closer to herself, hugging them to her chest, "It lets you see the stars, right?"

"It lets you see many things your eyes can't see." he agreed. If his heart had been restrained by fear in the light, it suddenly came to life in the dark as memories of her flooded his mind. If only happiness left a mark, a scar, he would be covered in them.

April's heart fluttered.

"And it's good chance just to sit back and shoot the breeze. I know we keep meaning to but..." April left the thought hanging.

Donatello took the reigns of her thoughts.

"I guess I've been meaning to talk to you, too...about a lot of things. But every time I see you, I get...distracted."

April released a small a silent chuckle.

"Well you can't see me now."

"Yeah." he agreed quietly. "I can't. But I want to."

"So shall we just sit here in the dark waiting for the sun to rise?"

"I have a better idea."

Donatello reached into his belt's pouch and pulled out a mini pen flashlight and clicked it on. The thin beam cut through the darkness like a beacon, and he pointed it to the ceiling letting it diffuse into the room around them.

April made a face of surprise.

"How did you…?"

"It comes in handy." He said, motioning his head down towards the sewers.

"Yeah. Of course." Her smile glittered in the light, and captured a sparkle that he had never quite seen before, "Ninja business?"

"And occasional pirate dealings." he added with a grin.

"Perfect timing, right?" she sighed as she cast a look around her shadowy apartment.

"No...it's a great time, for once." Something in the way he said it caught her attention. "Come on."

He reached across the table and grabbed her hands, helping her off the floor. She stood shakily, and looked back up at him with a trace of uncertainty.

"Where are we going?" she asked softly.

"Trust me. You'll see." He walked out from the living room with her in hand and guided her to the front door.

He quickly unlocked it and switched off his penlight. They stepped out into the hall, lit only by a dim emergency exit sign. Donatello stepped cautiously on, as she followed in his wake. He found the exit to the stair well and pushed it open, briefly turning to look back at her. She was intrigued, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"To the roof?" she asked puzzled, as a curious buzz of excitement stirred inside her stomach.

"Not just the roof." he answered mysteriously.

"The hovercraft better not be up there, Donnie." she joked.

He laughed and kept leading her forward.

"I promise, it's not the hovercraft."

He continued to lead her up the narrow corridor of the stairwell, their quick succession of footstep echoing on the cement steps as they climbed. The green emergency exit lights flickered dully at each level, guiding their way. Her heart pounded and she clung to him tightly, safe in his hands.

"Hold on," she laughed between gasps, gripping the banister, "I'm not as fit as you, ninja boy."

He slowed his pace, waiting for her with an outstretched arm.

"Of course, captain." he said with a gentle smile. She squeezed his hand and they continued their ascent.

Finally they reached the top landing. He pressed against the bar on the inside of the fire escape door and pushed it open with a creak, the cool air rushing around them like a sacred whisper. He was still holding onto her as she looked out over onto the horizon, where the blackout had taken out all of her part of the city, leaving a jumble of prisms in a dark repose.

They slowly walked to the low brick barricade at the edge of the building, dazzled by the spectacle before them: the moon sat like a gigantic orb low on the horizon, souping soft white rays onto the darkened city below.

"Wow." she gasped, mesmerized by the moon which appeared to her like round shield of hammered silver, so large and near that it was almost as if she could touch it from in front of her, pluck it from the sky and wield it.

"It's the moon rising." he said, "I thought it may be late tonight. I take note of it for when my brother's and I go out onto the rooftops."

She shimmered in its light, radiant beneath its watchful eye.

"It's really beautiful."

He watched her, the breeze flittering her fiery hair near her cheeks, the moonlight striking her face, and his heart began pounding.

"Yes. It is." He agreed softly.

April rested against the barricade and peered up into the heavens. The brightness of the moon obscured nearly all the stars, and brightened the clear night sky so much it appeared as if they were sitting within the depths of a giant blue ocean.

"Well, we can't see our constellation anymore." she said, the breeze softly tousling her hair behind her.

Donatello joined her, leaning forward onto the low wall, placing his elbows atop the coping. He looked out onto the city, the ambient bustling noise lost to the wind.

"That's because we're here instead." he glanced back at her and smiled. "And we can talk about all the other the stars for as long as you like. If that's what you want."

"What I want?" April repeated in soft wonder.

"Yes." he replied gently, his eyes intently on hers.

A tremor of delight passed through her, and she tipped her head down into the draft rising up off the building's edge, hugging her arms in thought. How often was she ever asked what she wanted? Only this time she had an answer. She looked back up into the blue night.

"Okay...what about that star there?" she said, tilting her chin at the brilliant point of light in the sky that suddenly appeared into view.

"Ah. Yes." he said knowingly as he nodded his head, "That would be a plane."

April buried her head into the soft pastel folds of her sweater, as the burn of embarrassment snaked up her face. She slid a foot closer to the edge, lifting her heel as her shoe scraped against the fine gravely surface of the roof.

"Oh god. Please don't tell anyone I said that." she begged desperately.

Donatello clasped his hands together in a fist and released a kind and disarming chuckle, "Your secret's safe with me, captain. Besides, I actually like to think of them as the shooting stars of a city."

April raised her head and peered into his dark eyes. He was always doing this, making her feel like she could do no wrong. It gave her a strength she would love him forever for.

"Hm." she scoffed, trying to laugh off her blunder, "Makes sense, in weird way. Always taking off, always landing."

"And forever passing through. " Donatello finished, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards, "A funny metaphor for life, right?"

She nodded and her eyes fell back over the cold city skyline, where far in the distance lights were still sparkling on the skyscrapers.

"Yeah." she agreed quietly, " Life's so short..." She frowned, thinking of Mark's words.

Donatello silently observed as the bright lights of the plane she had pointed out curved around and faded into the distance. He wondered where was it going as it headed out for a long journey over the Atlantic, and of what adventures the people on board would come across. The thought of his own journey with April came into his mind, flourishing like a summer storm that threatened to soak the parched earth beneath, the seeds scattered across the soil aching to bloom. In all their years, they been through so much together, and he couldn't imagine it any other way.

"I can't believe there was ever a time I didn't know you, April." he said, "It's almost scary to think we met by chance. I'm not a big believer in mysticism, but...there are some things that just feel like they were meant to be."

April breathed softly, watching him as he peered across the darkened city and out across the direction of the ocean. The thought of not knowing him - her closest friend, her confidant, her rock - sent an chill of desolation through her. Their lives were so tightly entwined, she would unravel without him. She would not be who she was without him. And she did not want to be without him.

"We were meant to know each other, Don." she said firm insistence, "I don't want to think any different."

"Me neither." Donatello agreed softly.

She gripped the railing and took a deep breath of the cool air, looking back at him.

"And I don't want to talk about the stars right now."

Donatello shook his head, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Me neither." he said softly again.

They captured each other's gaze, and smiled gently, quietly enjoying their time together. He rested his chin onto his arms and peered contentedly out onto the city they called home.

"You know, It feels good out here." April remarked, the cool air swirling around her.

"I thought you could use some fresh air. You couldn't seem to sit still downstairs."

April laughed, the melodic sound that thrilled his heart.

"Well it worked." she smiled at him., "And I still have a score to settle with you."

He chuckled, "And how do you propose on doing that?"

She glanced very obviously at his body.

"I'll think of something. Maybe I'll hold_ you_ down."

"You could try and see what happens." he said in a low tone.

April leaned towards him, "Really?" she whispered threateningly.

Donatello returned her a menacing grin as they locked eyes on each other. Only seconds past before they both cracked up into laughter.

"We're so full of talk." April giggled.

"Speak for yourself, Miss O'Neil. I'm taking that as your unconditional retreat."

"As _if_." she chuckled. She reached out and touched his forearm, "Thanks for your help tonight, Don. I owe you."

Donatello shook his head dismissively.

"You don't need to do that. You already do so much for us."

"And what about you?" she pressed gently.

Donatello stood silently, his mouth a neutral line as a torrent raged beneath his calm exterior. What she did for him, _to _him...how could he even begin to describe it? He simply nodded and shifted his gaze to look out over the horizon. The cool chill in the air felt good against his nervous warmth he felt within.

"Yes." he said quietly and at last.

April shifted on her feet, and she heard him draw in deeply.

"So...How's Casey?"

He cringed when he realized what he had just said. It had come out almost as a reflex, the standard question from the time when she had been dating him.

April chuckled in surprise, "Ah... he's good, I think. I had funny feeling he'd end up back here. He seems better, though."

"Oh." Donatello said nodding politely, "That's good." He inwardly kicked himself, unable to believe he brought up the topic of her ex-fiancé, cursing his stupidity for sabotaging the moment.

"And how are you?" April asked casually, a sparkle in her eye.

"Ah...good." he said, nodding lightly. He turned his head away from her, frowning.

_Now_? he thought despondently, _Now is when your brain stops working?_

"So, are you going to tell me why you really brought me up here?" April challenged softly. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight and she inhaled a small anxious breath, waiting for his reply.

"I'm not good at this..." he began hesitantly. What was happening to him? He felt like his bones were unable to even hold him upright anymore.

"You can tell me anything, Don." she said gently "You know that right?"

He nodded and fell silent, desperately trying to formulate his words as he peered up into the face of the moon. But they evaded him like a shadow of a dream.

April followed his gaze to the large saucer in the sky.

"You know, the moon really is beautiful tonight, it looks so close. Why is that?"

"It's an illusion." he said quietly.

April faced him curiously.

"Really?"

He relaxed. This was something he could answer without thinking.

"It's something that people have argued about for thousands of years - why the moon looks larger near the horizon. But it turns out it's just a trick of the eye."

April turned towards him, warm with desire. They were so close now, he thought distantly, they could almost be dancing.

"A trick?" she asked curiously. She gazed deep into his eyes, so dark they were almost black. They were beautiful.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Tonight is one of the closest times it's been all year. But the mind also forces it's perspective, making it appear closer than it is, when really...it's just the same distance away." he explained softly.

April dropped her chin and gave a quiet chuckle.

"Are you trying to feed me a line, Don?" She asked, looking back up at him with a mischievous grin.

"What? No, I...I didn't mean it like that." he said quickly, his face blushing furiously.

She smiled forgivingly, and slipped her hand up to rest on his arm. Her eyes wandered to the three jagged scars that marked his battle for her. The day he had protected her with his life. She felt the strangest urge to kiss them.

"Oh yeah?" she said quietly, "How did you mean it?"

Donatello pulse quickened, warmth radiating from her gentle touch, and his heart hammering painfully as where she rested her hand began to send sparks flying though him. The impulse to explain the scientific mechanics faded to dust as something truer, something he had only ever dreamed of saying escaped him. He glanced down over the edge of the building to the cars streaming below. Sometimes you just had to leap, he thought, and hoped you learned to fly on the way down.

"What I mean is…I want to be honest with you. No tricks."

April nodded and waited, the look on her face suddenly solemn. He was almost afraid to say it, he almost couldn't. He felt as fragile as the thinnest glass, waiting for her to smash him to pieces with just one glance of disdain. He took a breath that felt like his last on Earth, as the words tumbled out like an avalanche.

"You make me happy, April...just, unbelievably happy. Every moment, every memory...they fill my life with light." He continued blindly, her expression giving away nothing, as his voice filled with anguish, "But I'm not an idiot . I know what I am. I can see it just as well as anyone, and I know what it means. I could never give you the kind of life to make you happy-"

"Don." She said, breaking him off, "How do you know what would make me happy? I know what I want and I don't need you to protect me from it. So, please, tell me."

He stopped in his tracks, taken aback by the memory of her question. The world around them fell into silence, time coming to a standstill, where only the two of them existed within its delicate sphere. Her eyes pleaded for him to say something, _anything_.

_I would do anything for you_…came his only thought.

But then everything in his mind went blank, the sound of the rushing wind emptying out all thoughts of reason, leaving only his endless yearning for her behind. The breeze danced around them, picking up and tousling with the tails of his mask and entangling them with her fluttering hair. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her red ribbons, enchanted. His eyes met hers, deep green and glinting in the moonlight, her breaths leaving softly between her lips.

Without further thought, he leaned towards her, his lips meeting hers in a luminous kiss of constellations. It was electric, a galaxy of stars blooming beneath their tender embrace, and she melted into him with all surrender. It was as if the whole world suddenly made sense to him - the colors, the sounds, the tastes...everything leading to this moment of pure euphoria, bringing him to life like nothing before. His heart blazed as he lived in nothing but this moment, her soft salty lips moving heavenly against his, her divine taste bringing him to the brink of insanity. April slipped her arms beneath his and wrapped her fingers firmly around his shoulders, holding tightly to the one thing she wanted more than anything. He could feel her heart pumping beneath the soft curves that she had pressed against him as the world spun rapidly around him and shattered to atoms.

_"Donnie..."_ she sighed blissfully.

"Is this-?" he whispered tentatively .

She nodded dreamily, vaguely recalling that his experience was slight, if any, "_Good."_

The streams of electric fire that she felt running through her body were more than proof of that. His instincts with her were incredible, his passion fueled intimacy driving her wild. His mouth was different, but god she loved it - the feel of him, the taste of him, the heat coming off him - they were part of him, and she wanted more. Her heart floundered helplessly.

"And _this..._" she whispered.

She reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, controlling his mouth on hers, guiding his intensity, her body singing for him. Gently, she brushed her tongue against his and he buckled at the sensation, a deep rumbling gasp escaping him. She kissed him harder, turned on by his uninhibited response. The corners of her mouth rose into a smile as she tried again, and this time he responded in kind, tasting her sweetness.

_Heaven_...came his only broken incoherent thought.

Slowly their kisses became soft and tender.

"April," he whispered between gasps of air, his heart hammering furiously, "I need to say something. Please don't fall asleep." he said with a small teasing grin.

April let out a throaty chuckle between her soft kisses.

"Like at the campfire?" she asked.

He nodded. April raised her brows, her eyes sparkling merrily as a small huff escaped her. He quickly caught her meaning.

"Oh." His whispered, his head so light he could barely comprehend his own words, "I'm an idiot."

"_Tell me_." she breathed, "Tell me now."

He nodded, but was drawn helplessly to her as he drew her in with his arms and kissed her deeply, his fingers curling into her hair, the rush of pleasure running through them in waves, his mind blank of everything except her. Donatello achingly pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed in bewilderment, as the one thing he held hidden in his heart was finally set free.

"April." he whispered between heavy breaths, his heart hammering furiously, "I'm in love with you."

Her eyes gleamed as her finger tips dragged slowly down his jaw, feeling his beautiful skin beneath.

"Tell me again." She demanded breathlessly, but before he could answer, he kissed her again, their embrace a long, beautiful entanglement. She looked dazed when he finally released her, kissing the apple of her cheek, the tender spot of her neck near her ear, then pausing to whisper.

"I love you, Miss O'Neil. I am totally and utterly crazy for you. I would do anything …_anything_ to make you happy if you let me."

April breathed in sharply and looked back at him, her own heart beating erratically as warm tears flowed from her eyes. He smiled at her tenderly and wiped them away with brush of his thumbs. He felt indestructible, empowered by his admission of love. For so long he had been afraid, when all it would do was set him free.

"Donnie," she said, laughter escaping her, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that."

Joy flowed through him as he took her trembling hand and kissed it. If only she had known how long he had wanted to say it. All the years that had led to this point, every bump, every scar...he wouldn't trade them for anything.

She reached out and lay her warm hand on his cool cheek, her eyes heavy with desire. His eyes fell to hers lips, hypnotized, as she inclined her head towards him to crush her mouth against his, her taste like honey, her touch like fire. Her hands slipped behind him, gripping at the taut muscles of his neck, as the force of her kiss pushed him back into the parapet. He chuckled as his shell dully smacked the brickwork behind him. Donatello picked her up and spun her around, her feet dangling freely as they twirled around together. She giggled breathlessly as he put her gently down near the outer wall of the stairwell and held her against it, dominating her with passionate kisses. April drank it in, unable to resist him. He knew what he wanted and it was as hot as hell. How long had he felt like this, had he wanted this? Was it as much as she wanted it now?

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked tenderly between heavy breaths.

"No." she said softly, her mind spinning with pleasure.

"I can be more gentle."

"No."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Shut up and kiss me Donatello Hamato." she whispered.

Donatello let a soft chuckle escape him as he did what he was told, his lips hungrily crushing against hers. Their kisses became frantic, unrestrained, and the fire inside him beckoned for more. He nuzzled into her neck laying soft kisses.

April wound her hand around the tails of his mask, pulling him closer as he trailed his kisses down into the line of her shoulder, imbibing in her divine scent. His hand slipped down the gentle curve of her body and she exhaled in a state of ecstasy, her cheeks burning crimson. She reached out and touched him responsively, lightly running her nails down his firm chest plate and scraping against the sensitive ridges at his sides. He breathed in sharply, flinching at her gentle touch.

"Is that okay?" she asked curiously.

He nodded dumbly and April gave an impish smile, wanting to elicit more of a response.

"And this?" she said as her fingers explored the exotic shape of his body.

"_Yeah._" he managed to say in a raspy breath as pleasure swarmed under her touch.

April continued feel her way along the firm side plates of his body, her fingers lightly delving into each crevice. He braced himself mindlessly against each moment. He had never been touched like this before, so erotically, so lovingly. He immobilized her with a powerful kiss, trying to contain his feral lust. Unable help himself, he trailed softly down her throat, giddy on the scent of her skin, his body aching for her.

"Donnie," she gasped, her voice hitching at the run of sensations. To hear her say his name like that set his body on fire, "I want you."

His lips met hers again in a long lingering kiss.

"I'm yours." He whispered with raw abandonment, thinking back to the time they hadn't spoken, to when her hand fell through his...he would not mess up again, "All this time you were right, when I thought I knew better. You haunt my dreams, April. When I close my eyes at night...you're there; and when I'm awake, you're all that I want. I'm completely yours."

He brushed her hair from by her face as he looked lovingly upon her, her freckled cheeks glowing in the cold, her eyes sparkling with unbridled delight. April released a small staggered breath, overwhelmed by his confession. Her hand slipped up to rest on his cheek, as she gazed adoringly upon him.

"You mean so much to me, Donnie. I can't believe how long it took me to realize it... I've been so stupid...looking everywhere but right in front of me. You deserve better." she said softly, a sliver of regret running through her. It was all so clear to her now, this whole time, all she had wanted - it was him. It was always him.

"I don't want better." he said, stroking his fingers through her hair, "I want you."

She leaned her head towards his gentle touch, and his heart pounded at her beauty in the moonlight. April gazed up at him - his intelligent eyes beaming with warmth, his incredible body, his skin almost blue in the moonlight- and knew it without question:

"You have me." she said, curling her fingers around his hand, "And I'm right where I want to be."

"April...are you sure?" he asked quietly, afraid he would never be able to let her go.

She smiled in a way he wanted to make her feel forever.

"Yes." she whispered, as her heart spilled over with happiness, "I love you, Don. I know it. And anything else will just have to find a way around it."

Bliss washed over him, sending his heart soaring into a height unknown to him before, and beating so hard he thought it would break. She _loved _him - something he thought could never be, something he had never dared hope. That she could find him in any way desirable...that she could deign to love him, to want him, to kiss him...

April reached up and pressed her lips softly against his, her promise to him unbreakable - she had never felt like this before, something so strong and true. He was her best friend, her family, and now so much more. Gradually she pulled away.

"I love you." she whispered again.

Donatello breathed lightly, drinking her words in, finally knowing that they had found each other. He was the energy of a volcano, a tumbling of rocks, a scattering of earth - a mountain that moved.

_"My love."_ he whispered, his eyes glimmering with fierce passion.

Donatello gently lifted her chin and kissed her deeply, as the wind rushed around them in an eddying dance. Together they were lost in bliss, their love exposed in the cold night, the silvery moon the only witness to their burning passion. She had guided him to her, and for so long he had resisted it, fighting against the only thing that made sense. Her love was his safe harbor, his happiness, his light. It was better than any dream could promise, but this time if it were a dream, he hoped he would never wake again.

And from afar they appeared as two moonstruck figures, and when she whispered into his ear, he nodded and lovingly kissed her lips. Then scooping her up he headed towards the stairs, their faces full of joyful wonder at the discoveries before them.

...


	12. A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD

A/N:

Firstly, apologies for the delay. I've had this ever growing beast sitting around mostly done for far too long. Secondly, thank-you so so much for following along this story in the dark and dusty corners of the internet. Your kind words have really helped me overcome some blocks and real life road bumps, so thank-you again.

So, here lies the epilogue of Hidden Light 2...it was originally meant to be short coda to the story but then I experimented with the format to give the account over separate times. It is totally _not_ necessary to read this if you are happy with the story as is, and it's probably not the most action packed chapter (well, maybe not in the way you're thinking...or _is_ it? Hehe). More of a focus on Don and April and the aftermath of The Moon Illusion. Can I talk you out of reading it more?

Anyway, please do enjoy the final chapter. And if you wish, throw a review my way, they are always welcome :)

* * *

_EPILOGUE_

12. A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD

_1 day_

The morning came quickly, the dawn's early light gently ushering out the night. It streamed through the window in way Donatello could never get used to after all his years underground, caressing his body with warmth. But there was a far greater heat pressed against him, and it awoke him in an instant as his heart raced at the realization, astonished that she was still clinging to him in her sleep. He slowly opened his eyes to the new day to see her cheek resting on his shoulder, her fingers curled over his heart, and her hair running down her back in silky copper strands.

His eyes wandered over her body, delicate curves rising and falling beneath the sheets as she breathed softly with contentment. Never had he felt such peace as in their surrender to each other. He adored her completely, the depths of his love knowing no bounds

_She's still here... _he exhaled happily.

Their night had been a wondrous bliss, as they discovered each other with zealous and gentle vigor, an orchestra of sensations unleashing their deepest desires. He had stumbled at first but was quick to learn her, watching her with fervid intensity, reading her signals until her body was arched under his, writhing in ecstasy, as she called his name in catching breaths. Their sweat had dripped and mingled in their labor, slippery on her smooth body, the scent of her enthralling him as he moved inside her until they had reached the heights of heaven in a cataclysmic release. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He had held her in his arms as the afterglow burned through her, her eyes languid with love.

_"I love you.."_ she had whispered between sweet kisses_, "I love you..."._

And the things she had done to him, hungry to learn the newness of his body, things that tipped him over the edge time and again...

He felt a strong jolt of lust at the memory, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. She smiled, her eyes still closed, and slipped her hand down his arm to loosely entwine with his.

"Morning." she whispered drowsily.

His heart leapt at this first. It had been the first of many things, but to hear her as she awoke in his arms was moment of pure joy for him. Even now, he still couldn't believe it was real.

"Good morning." he answered quietly, "Don't let me wake you. You look beautiful sleeping."

"Mmm." she murmured, "I want you to wake me." she whispered with a small smile. She kissed him gently on the shoulder, and then sunk her teeth in, lightly biting him. The pressure ran deliciously up his arms and Donatello hissed in pleasure.

"I'll be more than happy to do that." he rumbled.

He rolled over to nuzzle her neck and she giggled responsively. His gentle nestling brushes became soft kisses that traced their way to her lips. A soft sigh escaped her as he lingered on her mouth. With great effort he pulled himself away. He settled back with a smile and raised an arm above his head on the pillow, wishing this day would never end.

April's eyes slowly opened, their flecked green depths holding his attention. They both fell silent, lost in the beauty of the moment. He looked so different without his mask, she thought, uniquely striking in a way she found impossibly alluring. Their courageous leap had taken them to somewhere more wonderful than she could ever imagine. It was so natural, so beautiful, how had they not tried this before? She reached up and ran the back of her hand down his cheek, and he shivered at the gentle dragging of her nails.

"I really love you." she said quietly.

He let her words sink in and wrap around his heart, then took her hand from his cheek and kissed it with a smile.

"Pinch me." he spoke in a rumble barely above a whisper.

April obliged with a grin, squeezing a sensitive section of his inner arm. She watched as his body tensed.

"Ow!" he protested with a chortle.

"Believe it now?" she smiled, "Or do I need to keep hurting you?"

"Hurt me." he murmured, his eyes hungrily drinking in the soft curves of her milky skin that he wanted against him.

In retribution, she rolled onto her side and dropped her head by his ear.

"A right-angled triangle has three equal sides." she whispered cunningly, knowing the obvious error would set him off. She kissed his cool cheek and felt the muscle beneath twitching into a grin.

"You're killing me, April." he whispered, his eyes heavy with lust. He stroked her waist, following it down to caress the gentle curve of her rear. Her mind temporarily blanked at the sensation, and she drew in a tiny staggered breath as where he rested his hand tingled in anticipation. She shot up an eyebrow.

"But you'll want to the way I do it." she whispered.

He sat up to meet her face then loomed over her, pushing her gently back down like a wave onto the pillow, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and down towards the peaks of her breasts. A flush of desire ran down her chest, and in the light Donatello could see the bright red marks that splotched her pale skin, and was aroused by the visible reaction that she had to him. She sighed heavily at his dominance, the sound of which sent him plunging back into unfettered lust.

Suddenly, he paused, as a terrifying thought struck him-

"Oh no..." he muttered.

April's eyes flung wide open in alarm, instantly catching onto his train of thought.

"Our cells...Leo...he would have tried calling both of us when you didn't go back last night. Oh...crap."

Donatello nodded fretfully as his mouth crumpled together. April blinked and reached out to grasp his arm.

"You don't think he turned up here last night looking for you, do you?" she whispered hesitantly. Oh God. Oh no. If that had happened he would have had _quite_ the show. And encore. And curtain call. Despite the circumstance, April felt a rush of pleasure at the memories.

"...No." Donatello said at length. He was sure Leonardo wouldn't have. Wasn't he?

"What shall we say?" A distant part of her began to niggle with concern...how would this all play out with his brothers? With Splinter? With _Casey_?

Donatello kissed her cheek.

"Anything you want. If you want to forget last night happened...if you just want to stay friends...it's in your hands. I think you already know how I feel about you." he answered, watching her with careful interest. Was she ready to let them know? Was he ready? Within nanoseconds he realized that he could quite easily sing it from the rooftops to anyone that would listen. God, he loved her. And he didn't care who knew it.

"You're not going anywhere." she whispered with a smile.

They quickly untangled themselves from each other, and hopped out of bed. April unhooked her bathrobe from the back of her door and slipped it on, as Donatello silently watched her, giddy at the sight of her body. He forced himself to face the floor, trying to control his unwavering heat.

She turned to him and smiled, resting her long fingers on his arm.

"Let me call him. Okay?"

Donatello shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't mind if I do it. He'll be expecting to hear from me. He gets like this if one of us goes AWOL."

"You're lucky. He's a good brother. But let me try him."

They made their way out into the living room, and she connected her phone to the outlet. She watched as it powered up and flashed her missed calls. Her brow raised in mild surprise - there were only a few, and she suspected Leonardo already knew where he was. She swiped her thumb across the glass, her fingerprint leaving a trace of a pattern. As if on cue, her cell began vibrating. She looked up at Donatello.

"It's him..." she said in shock.

"It's like he has sixth sense, sometimes." he muttered as the corner of his mouth edged up into a grin. Nervously, she breathed out and tapped the cell to answer.

"Hello? Leo?" It was a terrible analogue of natural, but she forced herself on, "What's up?"

She caught Donatello's eye, and bit down hard on her bottom lip. _Terrible_, she scolded herself_, just hire a plane to write it in the sky, it'd be less obvious_.

"Hey, April. Sorry to bother you so early, but I'm looking for Don. I don't think he came back last night."

April covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling with unfurled guilt as Donatello shook his head. She looked down at the kitchen bench, and innocently ran her hand along it. Compelled to comfort her, Donatello walked quietly up behind her and rolled back the edge of her robe to kiss her shoulder. She shuddered in pleasure.

"Uh...yeah." she choked out as she swatted him desperately away - he relented, but instantly she pulled him back in towards her, running her hand across his plastron, "There was a black out last night and our cells were flat and he, uh...crashed here. Did you need to speak to him?"

"Ah - no." Leonardo responded with a curious tone, "Can you just tell him he needs to be back before six for recon. I need to start planning early."

"Okay. Sure thing."

"I'll let you two be. Thanks, April."

_Let us two be?_

"Alright. Thanks. Bye, Leo."

The line went dead and April rested the cell by her collarbone.

"Oh no. I think he's onto us." she said with a anxious grin as she placed the cell back down on the bench, looking down at it with a hint of worry, "And he wanted you to be back by six for recon planning."

Donatello gave a frustrated nod. He had completely forgotten about that, and the last thing he wanted to do was tear himself away from her. The goddamned foot, always stealing everything that meant something. His precious time with her...given over to patrolling empty rooftops and the chance of violence. It was just not him. He would do anything for his family but more and more it felt like their energy was being diverted into malice. And he was not a born fighter, not like Raphael. The only things he were interested in pulling apart usually couldn't fight back.

"Do you care if they know?" she asked, her voice both inquisitive and hesitant.

Donatello picked her up by the waist and lowered her down until her lips met his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, happiness beaming from within.

"I don't care..." he murmured, "I don't care who knows, how they know, or what they know. I just care about you. Whatever you want, April, consider it done." And he meant it. He was a fool in love.

"I'm just...I'm nervous." April said quietly, "I'm sure when the right time comes to tell them, we'll know."

He placed her down and kissed her forehead.

"Whatever you want." he repeated, stroking her face with his thumb. He glanced over to the kitchen, "How about a coffee? Or something to eat?"

_My god, he's beautiful_, _offering me breakfast_... she marveled. And that wasn't all, she thought. Something about him just _clicked_ with her. And good god, he was sexy: the limber movement of his toned body, the charisma of his intelligence, and then last night...

April slowly shook her head, her eyes a universe of secrets.

"I think I need a shower."

Donatello nodded compliantly, and sat down at the kitchen stool, intending to wait until she had finished bathing.

April picked up his hand and dragged him off his seat as a brief look of confusion crossed his face. He was so innocent in some ways, she thought. She couldn't wait to completely corrupt him.

"Would you maybe_... _like to _join_ me?"

Finally cottoning on, he nodded his head.

"Ah..yes. I would like that very much..."

"Good. This way, genius." she chuckled, leading him to the bathroom where she intended to ravage him until they both collapsed with euphoric exhaustion beneath the steamy jets of water.

.

The hours entangled passed by so quickly that it was almost unbelievable to Donatello that they existed at all. But eventually time became his enemy as the clock approached his curfew. From her arms to the sewers and back to patrolling, the trade-off seemed almost infinitely wrong.

They held to each other closely by her window as a light breeze trickled in. One of her hands wandered down his smooth coffee colored shell, her nails catching in its ringed divots. He could just register it there, the touch of her hand, and felt loved beyond compare.

"I'll be back..." he murmured over and over in between kisses. His soothing voice sent shivers of desire racing across her body and did little to make her feel like letting go. She just wanted to take him back to bed, drag him by the hand, and lie there all night with him.

"You better, Donnie. Or I'm coming after you." she said in a small, hushed voice.

Donatello kissed her forehead.

"I know you would." he whispered with a subtle grin, then tilting her chin towards him, drew her lips into a deep kiss. How could he ever forget the time she had looked for him all those months ago, tearing up the sewer alone in grim determination to find him? All because of his dreams, all because of his sleepwalking. They had led him here in a way and he would be forever grateful for them. A soft sigh of contentment escaped her as he finally pulled himself away.

"I love you." he said, as effortlessly as breathing.

April's heart blazed at his words. She barely blinked twice, and he was gone.

...

_1 month_

Raphael clucked his tongue absently, unaware that his thinking face would arouse suspicion. April had sat herself over nearby Donatello, not unusual, but this time there was something..._different_. First he thought he saw it, and then he thought he was just seeing things- the knuckle of Donatello's curled hand grazing against April's mid-thigh, after which she quickly glanced back at him with a secret smile.

_Jesus H. Christ, FINALLY... _Raphael thought with a strange knot in his stomach.

Carefully, he readjusted himself on the opposite couch hoping he could covertly surveil them better from his new position. In front of them, the television blared some network sitcom they were all only half interested in watching - some terrible show with jokes more predictable than a weekday name - it was the kind of fare that Michelangelo liked to call 'digestive television', the time shortly after eating when all you wanted to do was sit on your ass and zone out. The more mindless, the better. And Michelangelo should know - he'd worked it out to an art. In fact, his younger brother was testing the notion right now, shoveling popcorn into his gob from the bowl he had hoarded. Raphael chanced a look again:

April was biting down on her lip, trying ingenuously to focus her attention ahead, while Donatello had jammed himself against the armrest, leaning his head onto his propped up hand. The both of them seemed _way _too interested in the show to be smiling as much as they were at the mindless drivel onscreen. And then he saw something else - April's hand sliding down by her side, her fingers capturing Donatello's in a loose hold. Raphael could almost feel the heat simmering off the two, as _still_ they maintained their facade of neutrality.

"Ya know," Raphael drawled casually, finally catching them out, "We already know."

April and Donatello whipped their heads over at him as she jerked her hand away guiltily.

"What? What are you talking about?" April asked in desperate alarm.

Michelangelo slowly spun his head towards them in a lazy circle of feigned disbelief, as Leonardo cracked the faintest of smiles. Gearing up for a show, Michelangelo grabbed a handful of popcorn and popped the kernels into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"Ya heard me." Raphael countered.

She looked back at Donatello with raised eyebrows, as a little breath of panic escaped her. Her jaw dropped as if she meant to say something, but she promptly shut it again.

"I guess now is a good a time as any?" he asked her in a low voice. April nodded apprehensively. Donatello gave her a reassuring smile, then turned his attention back to Raphael. It was time to rip off this band-aid.

"Ah, guys..." he announced to his brothers, "I think you should know that me and April...I mean, April and I...are...well. It seems like you already know." he finished uncertainly as he looked around at their completely unsurprised and amused faces.

"Are what?" Michelangelo asked with a straight face, "Joining the circus?"

"If that's whatchya wanna call it." Raphael muttered under his breath.

"_Seeing_ each other." Donatello finished definitively, glancing sternly back at them.

April nodded again, her face in a tentative pose of excitement.

"Yeah." she breathed.

"At the same time?" Michelangelo queried with unyielding deadpan, popping another kernel into his mouth. Raphael snickered in amusement.

"Mm hm. And the same place, Mikey." April added with an incredulous shake of her head.

"Oh _thaaat._" Michelangelo replied knowledgeably, "Yeah. We already knew that."

Donatello blanched.

"Wait...how long have you known?" he asked, feeling his face burning with embarrassment.

Michelangelo tapped his buttery chin thoughtfully.

"Hmmm. Let's see...since the blackout three weeks ago."

_Three weeks ago!_

Quickly Donatello began to run through all the situations that he thought they'd gotten away with - stolen kisses in the dark corners of the lab, all the inconspicuous touching, all those "walks", all those nights "working" at April's...and all this time they had known. Oh boy. He turned to April who had the exact same expression as he. Feeling beaten to the punch, Donatello went straight to Leonardo to try and figure out how they had gotten the jump on him.

"Leo...did you-"

"Of course not. I didn't have to. It was pretty apparent when you came in the other day, Don."

Michelangelo chuckled, "Yeah bro, I don't think your feet have touched the ground since then."

Raphael propped his feet onto the armrest and crossed them triumphantly. He _knew_ it. As soon as Leonardo hung up the phone after that blackout all those weeks ago, he _knew_ that something had gone down between the two of them. Leonardo might be the "fearless" leader, but he couldn't hide that surprised expression on his face for jack shit. And Donatello might as well have been broadcasting what was going on because Michelangelo was right. He'd been floating around like he was full of helium for the last three weeks, and glowing like he'd won the freakin' lottery.

Donatello looked wildly around at his brothers.

"And Splinter?"

"Yeah. He knows." Michelangelo confirmed.

April gasped in embarrassment as Leonardo shot up in his chair.

"Wait - how do you know that, Mikey?" he cut in.

Michelangelo shuffled his position on the floor and tossed another piece of popcorn into his mouth. This was getting good.

"Because he threatened to cut out my tongue with a _tanto_ if I said anything." he explained levelly, oddly proud that he had been the one to break the news.

April covered her face with her fingers, blushing.

"We thought we were being so careful." she muttered into the room.

"Well, love's blind, ain't it?" Raphael snapped snarkily.

"I guess it is." she muttered, glancing back at Donatello. _Love_. It was like nothing else. A blinding drug. A deafening roar. An obliteration of senses. And she had fallen hopelessly. Donatello returned her a look that seemed serious, but she could feel his intense passion just below the surface.

"Blind leading the blind." Donatello said to her in a hushed tone, a hidden sparkle in his eye. She quietly chuckled, her teeth dragging across her bottom lip.

Raphael softened a little. He wasn't jealous, exactly. Not his style. It was something much closer to...what? _Intrigue_. Yes, that is what it was. A strange fascination. Now that one of his brothers had hooked himself a poor, unsuspecting woman - _April_, no less - it was blatantly obvious to him that _physically_ and _emotionally_, not only was it possible, but that it could work beyond a blind streetwalker in a dark room. And that was practically speaking from experience. The very thought awoke a new excitement in him. What he would do to have someone willingly pinned beneath him. Guiltily he thought back to the druggie who had tossed him back his piece of shell. Yeah, maybe not.

"Don't be too hard on yerself. Was bound ta come out sooner or later."

"No." she told him, "Now's the right time."

April glanced over at Leonardo who had been watching them with quiet interest. He nodded very subtly_._

_Damn, he knew the moment he called me..._ she thought impressed, as she returned him a small abated grin. She dropped her gaze, looking down at her hands that she'd been tightly clenching in her lap.

_Relax, April..._

As if sensing her stress, Donatello reached out and took her hand, stroking it with his thumb. Her fingers blindly grasped his, safe in his hold. Instantly she felt comforted. A small huff escaped her. For so long she had been anxious about Donatello's family knowing, and how they'd react to this shift in their relationship. She was expecting resistance, and a steely wall of protection from his brothers. Maybe even a warning. But it was all for nothing. It was something they had already accepted - without her or Donatello even knowing. And the best thing was that they had treated her exactly the same, as a trusted member of their family. And she had no rhyme or reason to make them think otherwise. She was head over heels for him.

"Phew." she sighed absently, not intending it to be heard, "I'm just glad it's out on the table."

"Please tell me ya haven't done anything on the table." Michelangelo asked half-seriously.

Leonardo balked at his brother's implication.

"I'm still willing to use a _tanto_ on you." he cautioned his youngest brother.

April blushed but the truth was they hadn't done _anything _in the lair. They had come close a few times - hot and heavy up against the cold brick wall in his room... but ultimately it was a little tricky with all those damn ninjas within earshot. And the thought of Splinter finding out like that was beyond palatable comprehension.

"_Mikey_." Donatello said irritably, "Please...don't."

"I promise you your table's fine." she managed to reply in a strained voice, her ears burning red.

"I'm sorry, April. It's just that, I _eat_ there, ya know?"

"Shut the _fuck up_." Raphael snarled.

"Okay, okay." Michelangelo swiveled on the spot, redirecting his focus back at April as he cleared his throat, "Hey, congrats to the both of ya. I had my bets on that ya wouldn't let the cat outta the bag for another _month,_ on the inside."

"Who got it?" Leonardo queried casually.

Raphael swung his thumbs back towards himself.

"Hey, no fair! You made 'em tell us." Michelangelo protested.

"Suck it, Mikey. I didn't _make_ 'em do jack."

Donatello and April exchanged an embarrassed glance.

"I guess just about everyone knows, then..." Donatello trailed off. Raphael shrugged unsympathetically.

"Well, it's about time. It was startin' to get painful."

April began laughing in excitement, her face flushing crimson.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, her voice smooth and even, "We didn't know how to tell you."

"Yeah, well. That seems to be a common problem between the two of you." Raphael said astutely, but not unkindly.

April looked back at Donatello with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Looks like we'll have to work on that."

"Sounds like a great idea." he answered lightly, his eyes fixed on hers.

Raphael crossed his arms huffily. This was getting a little too nauseating.

"_Spare_ me." he grumbled.

"Shut-up, the show's back on." Leonardo interjected calmly from his corner. He didn't care one iota about the show, really, but knew it was time to let April and his brother have their moment. Donatello shot him a grateful look before turning his attention back to April with barely contained joy.

_Can you believe it? They know.._. came his unspoken words.

April beamed back him, then relaxed her head onto his shoulder, something she had wanted to do since she had first sat down. Donatello gently rubbed his cheek against her orchard scented hair, his heart thumping happily. He couldn't believe that they had known...he felt like an idiot. But even better, he felt free. It had been so difficult restraining himself whenever she was in the lair, having to hide even the slightest touch from the others, when all he wanted to do was touch her. And touch her. And touch her.

He trained his eyes ahead.

"That wasn't so bad." he whispered, in a voice low enough not to be picked up by his three surrounding brothers. April reached down and squeezed his hand.

"Not at all." she whispered back.

From the floor came Michelangelo's unprompted commentary.

"_Get a room_."

April unwedged the cushion she was leaning on and tossed it firmly at his head, landing it squarely. It bounced off his face and onto the floor. He shot her a wounded look, rubbing his assaulted jaw.

"_Gah! _Et tu, April?"

"You _so_ had it coming." she giggled.

"Welcome to the clan, April." Leonardo chuckled pleasantly, "It's too late to back out now."

.

Splinter shuffled towards the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, his bones twinging from the damp cold. He had planned on going to the garden, hoping that the warmth of the rising sun and the sweet air of his blossoming azaleas would ease his pains. His thoughts were interrupted by a noise from the living room, and his aging eyes shot over to the sofa where he could hear sound breathing, assuming that Michelangelo had fallen asleep in front of the box again.

_That child_...he tutted silently to himself.

But to his surprise he saw April, clutching a crossword puzzle against her chest in her sleep, a pencil lodged between her limp fingers like an unburned cigarette. Even more surprising was Donatello - directly beside her and clutching April to _his_ chest, his shell hanging over the edge of the lounge like he had come up beside her to help her with the clues before falling asleep as they tried to arrive at an answer. Suddenly, she stirred.

"Master Splinter..." came her whisper full of worry, as her eyes wearily opened.

"Hm." he affirmed quietly. Lightly tapping his cane before him, he stepped towards them.

She took a few breaths, trying to gather herself as she realized the position she was in...

"I'm so sorry." she whispered back, "I didn't mean to fall asleep...like this."

"Hm." he answered gruffly.

Her stomach tightened guiltily. This was not supposed to be how they told him. Since the night before when Raphael had confronted them, they had planned on speaking to Splinter, wanting to grant him a certain level of respect by formally acknowledging their relationship together. But now that wish was all in shambles. She breathed unsteadily, as she opened her heart to him.

"I want you to know that I care very much for your son," she said softly, trying hard not to wake her sleeping sofa-mate, "and that I would never hurt him."

Splinter gazed piercingly into her eyes, searching for the truth of those words. He already trusted her implicitly, and just as he expected, all he saw now was pure honesty. They were a good match, he thought with satisfied introspection. And his son's happiness of late had been undeniable. It shone from the very depths of his being.

"Yes." Splinter replied quietly, "He is quite fond of you, also, I see."

April nodded, tears of relief forming in her eyes as she looked tenderly at Donatello's peaceful face. He had her told many times that he saw her in his dreams, but when he held her in his sleep, it was like she was really there with him. God, how she loved him.

"I hope so." she whispered with a besotted smile.

From the realms of his dreams, Donatello inhaled heavily and minutely adjusted his head on the armrest, as if sensing a disturbance around him. His foot flexed upwards and touched the sole of her shoe, and he edged himself closer towards her before falling back into a deep slumber.

"Perhaps you should rest now, Miss O'Neil. It is still very early. Not even the sun is up." he said, inwardly chuckling at his little play on words.

April nodded gratefully.

"Okay." she whispered.

Splinter looked them over, his whiskers twitching in amusement. He could see that his son adored her. It was as plain as the shell on his back.

"Next time you choose to stay, please do not forget we have a spare squab. It should prove to be more comfortable."

"I understand." she said with complete acceptance. Even though the boys were now in their twenties and she several years older still, it seemed more than fair to respect the rules of his house.

"And you are welcome to place it in any room you wish, Miss O'Neil."

April blinked in surprise...did he just give her permission to sleepover in _Donatello's room_?

"O...Okay." she stuttered.

"After all, you are both grounded and intelligent adults." he explained, "I would be remiss not to trust you both." April's mouth dropped open in shock as she hastily nodded.

"_Thank you_." she whispered.

Splinter bowed his head and slowly shuffled back towards the kitchen sink, as an unseen grin of delight broke across his face.

...

_1 year_

"Take a right here." Donatello told her as they drove steadily along a back-route to New York.

"Here? "

"Yeah, quick, don't miss it!"

She swerved the van sharply to the right, almost tipping it, as he proceeded to guide her down and an ever dwindling series of country roads. Eventually they hit a dirt track, and traveled along it through dense vegetation until it ended up at the foot of a large lake. It shimmered majestically in the late afternoon sun, bordered by tall reeds, gnarled copses of trees, and open fields of grassland. April looked around, stunned - aside from them, it was completely deserted.

"You know... I could be wrong, but this doesn't look like the same city I left." she said, eying him suspiciously.

"It's a rest break. I thought it might be nice if I packed some food so we could eat on the road."

April shot him a surprised look.

"I like it!" she said delightedly as threw car into park, "And I could do with a break. I almost forgot how long the trip out to Northampton was."

"Well, I probably added another hour just getting to this place." Donatello confessed wryly.

"I know." April said as she pulled up the handbrake with a grunt, "But you had that look in your eye, and I just had to run with it. No regrets, though, look at this place."

It was indeed a spectacular view. They soon retreated from the vehicle and Donatello laid out a picnic blanket alongside the van, fluttering it high before it landed evenly on the ground. He unpacked their lunch - bread, cheese, fruits and wine, which they devoured with ravenous hunger. Feeling full of nervous energy, Donatello soon found himself under the hood of the van, trying to ratchet tight some of the loosening brackets. April stretched out drowsily on the blanket, watching him with an amused smile. Before long he had wiped his tools on a rag and went back to join her.

"All better?" she asked with a hint of a grin.

"The last leg of the trip should be." he said, playing freely into her teasing, "I hope so, anyway."

They were feeling relaxed, watching as the sun began its descending voyage below the horizon. It reflected of the lake in a wreath of moody colors, casting everything in a sepia light. Far in the distance they could hear the warbling call of birds coming home to roost, gently landing in a smooth streak on the surface of the lake. Water rippled sluggishly around them, circles within circles, fading out into the smooth glass. Donatello felt utter contentment here with her amongst the beauty of the hidden lake. He looked back, his heart almost stopping at the sight of her, even still, after all this time together. Her white sundress clung revealingly to her breasts and flared out from her waist, exposing bare skin that glowed beneath the sunset. _My angel,_ he thought lovingly. He wanted to take her right there, lay her down by the flowers and make her gasp in pleasure as she clawed helplessly at his skin. But there was something far more pressing on his mind.

"It's so beautiful here, so peaceful." she mused, watching the sunset glisten off the surface of the lake.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do. But just about most things would be relaxing after last night, right? I think _I_ would have decked him if you hadn't, Don."

Donatello smiled uncertainly, still feeling partly ashamed that their visit to the Casey's farmhouse had resulted with him in a fist fight. He'd been expecting it, though. He flexed his knuckles, still lightly bruised from the incident. Casey, on the other hand, had not fared so well. Most of the weekend had gone off without a hitch, and for the most part Casey had even been acting civil. But when he had drunkenly started in on April with jibes of her being a 'freak fucker', something inside him had snapped.

_'Don't you **ever** talk to her like that_.' he had snarled between gritted teeth, sounding so much like his brother that the others had quickly turned their heads, waiting for the impending blow-up.

Casey had sneered bitterly and took an unsteady swing before being promptly downed by Donatello's powerful left hook. He had dropped like a lead weight, over before it even started. The fight had caused a kerfuffle amongst his brothers who had instantly separated the two of them. The look on Raphael's face had bordered on murderous, but he had kept Casey submissive to any further violence: _'Ya lucky Don got to ya first, 'cause if open ya trap like that again, ya won't be walkin' around to tell the tale, got it? Now settle the fuck down before I **really **get this party started.'_

"He's an ass, April. When he invited all of us over, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt - for your sake. I know you want us all to get along... but I think it's going take a lot more than just time."

"I'm sorry, Don. You're right. Everything seemed to be going well...I just wish it hadn't ended like that." she grabbed his bruised hand and kissed it, "The others will calm him down, I'm sure. And I think us not being there will help."

"Undoubtedly." he muttered derisively. April stroked his arm tenderly, trying to appease the rare flare up of his temper.

"Besides," she said with a kind smile, "I get you all to myself now."

He looked back up at her, any anger instantly dissipating.

"My favorite part of the weekend." he replied gently. He took her hand in his, so small and warm, and dragged his thumb across her naked ring finger.

"Mine, too."

April sat back with a sigh and began picking the small wild flowers at the edge of their picnic blanket, braiding them together, the little daisies, dandelions, and blades of grass forming a spindly chain. Lying on his side, he quietly observed her, eventually closing his eyes to soak in the last of the sun's warmth. He heard her begin to hum, and flickered his eyes open, grinning at her busywork. Keen to learn, he picked up a tiny flower and tried tying it into a loop, quickly realizing that his dexterity was nowhere near hers. He tried again, finally getting the shape he wanted.

"What are you making there?" Donatello asked with a hint of a grin as he slipped his clumsy work behind him.

"Top secret business. But it's something for you." she told him as she wove another flower stem into her creation.

The chain gradually reached a length she was satisfied with, and she tied the ends together and hung it over his head to sit around his neck like bohemian _lei_.

April tilted her head to one side in appraisal of her handiwork, her hair glowing like fire in the sun's setting rays.

"Much better."

"I feel so pretty." he smirked.

She laughed and shifted herself between his legs to lie back on his plastron, her dress riding up her thighs as she settled down. He admired the view of her bare flesh from behind her as the garland she had made quickly fell apart under her body.

"Oh well. Such is life." she mused, catching a falling daisy and twisting it between her fingers. The whirling petals tickled his shins.

He smiled and picked up some of the fallen flowers, setting them in them in her hair like little stars.

"They look much better on you, anyway." he rumbled quietly.

"So do you." she quipped.

Donatello laughed, the vibrations running through her body in a comforting sensation. She wriggled her hips closer to him, wanting to feel it everywhere.

"I can arrange that." he murmured into her ear, kissing her smooth shoulder, a soft spot by the strap of her dress.

She tipped her head back to talk to him.

"You're insatiable." she whispered, her eyes sparkling.

"Well..._look_ at you!" he protested with a smile, "I can't help myself. And in that dress, too..." he trailed off lasciviously.

He began kissing her, tracing tenderly down her neck as he drank on the sweet nectar of her scent. Her breaths grew heavy at the loving attention and he felt a lustful heat race over him at the sound. He was still kissing her when he ran his hand down her arm to take her hand, slipping the woven flower band he constructed moments earlier onto her ring finger. She broke away from him and looked down at what he had done. A small gasp escaped her as a flush of shock rose to her face.

"Donnie?" she asked in a hesitant whisper, her heart pummeling mercilessly, "What are you-"

"I'm already yours, April." he whispered gently, "Be mine."

She turned around onto her knees to face him, stunned. It was so unlike her to be at a loss for words, he thought. Nervously, he tried to bridge the silence.

"I know it's not the same, that it could only ever be informal...but I love you, and I want to make it right between us. Say yes, April, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy."

April said nothing, her breaths leaving her in short, light pants, and for a fleeting moment he was terrified that she going to rip it off in revulsion. She looked down at her hand and then back up to him, ghostly white. Tears began to brim in her eyes as a tight smile formed on her face. Unsteadily, she swayed on the spot. Donatello reached out and held her hand in comfort, alarmed at her distress.

"April?..." he asked in concern. His throat was suddenly gripped by a tight panic_, _"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Yes..." she finally whispered, _"Yes!" _

She stumbled forward and threw her arms around him, knocking him back to the ground. He laughed as relief and ecstatic joy washed over him, quite literally bowled over by her reaction. She covered his face in kisses, the last one lingering and deep, one that he felt all the way down to tips of his toes.

"Really?" he asked in a choked whispered.

"_Yes!"_ she said again, "Donnie...I love you. It's _yes!_"

He let out a deep sigh of happiness and lifted her hand to kiss it, trying to fight the back his own tears.

"Thank god. " he whispered shakily.

They were the only words he could muster, overwhelmed by her joyful response. He relaxed back down onto the blanket, almost in a state of disbelief...she said _yes._..April...the woman he loved, the woman he cherished...life was truly beautiful. _ Now_, he thought, _now is the time I would choose to live in forever_.

His thoughts were broken into by a gasp.

"Oh no !" April cried out, as the flower stem band slipped from her finger in pieces.

He rolled back up into a kneel and reached into his belt pocket, bringing out a little box.

"This one might work better."

She slapped him on the arm at the ruse.

"_Donnie!_" she growled, and she broke out laughing as warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Do you mind if I try this again?" he asked.

Tears ran silently down her face as she shook her head. He tried to remember to breathe, feeling light-headed under the weight of the moment. Looking at her again, it all came back in a rush of love. He cracked open the box, revealing a pale violet tanzanite gem flanked by two diamonds on a silver band. Her hands flew to her mouth in utter surprise. It was gorgeous, sparkling as brilliantly as their constellation in the night sky.

"Will you marry me, April? I love you...and I'm completely lost without you."

April's head swirled as an influx of intense emotion swarmed her. Just moments ago she had been making a simple necklace out of flowers, and now she was facing a future, a promise, with the person she loved more than anyone.

Her tears fell as she nodded her head, beaming with happiness.

"My answer's still the same, Donnie_._" she laughed, "Of course it's yes! I don't care if it's just you and me in front of a drumfire. I love you, you _ass!_"

She fell towards him, crushing her lips on his as tears streamed down her cheeks. He kissed her back, heady on her rush of love. He wiped her tears away, and lifted his mouth to kiss her forehead.

"I swear I thought you were going to say no this time." he said shakily, as his body felt fire and ice run euphorically through it.

"What if I did?" she laughed.

"I'd be heart-broken." he admitted, "But to hell with it, I'd still do everything in my power to make you happy."

"You already do." she said tearfully, wiping her face with the back of her hand, "Okay, maybe it doesn't look like it right now, but...I'm _ecstatic_. I swear."

He nodded, holding his own tears at bay.

April laughed again and he exhaled happily, trembling as he slipped the ring onto her finger. The jewels danced in the light, like they had always belonged with her. She held her hand out in front of her.

"Oh, Don." she murmured, "It's beautiful."

He smiled, watching her face light up beneath the orange blaze of the sun. Earth's closest star paled in comparison to her. After all this time, he was more in love with her than ever.

"I got Mikey to do a little investigating for me." he whispered, brushing his face by her ear.

April blinked. From nowhere came the memory of the night over two months ago where she had been at the lair, unable to sleep, and watching the home shopping channel with Michelangelo as they indulged in ice-cream and critiqued the jewelry. They had spent over an hour waving their spoons at the screen as they jokingly spewed forth their scathing commentary.

"They knew you were doing this? Your family?" she asked. She was floored. His brothers had all been in on it. Well, that would explain their odd behavior when she and Donatello had left the farmhouse earlier on.

"Yes." he answered, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, "I've been planning it for months. And when the chance to travel here came up...I knew."

"Here?" she asked looking around at the gently lapping water of the lake and the field of tiny wildflowers rippling under the light breeze, "Why here?"

A new thought struck her, and she looked down at the ring and back at him uncertainly.

"My god, how were you able to-"

"Afford it?" he asked with a barely contained grin, "I've done well on some of the work I've been developing and patenting. I mean, _really_ well, April. And there's something else I wanted to ask you...I have enough to buy some land. And I thought if you liked it here-"

"You mean right here?" she interjected curiously.

"Yeah."

"Beneath our feet?"

He nodded, his eyes brimming with excitement.

"It's private, it's quiet, and it's not too far from New York if we want to divide our time between the places. We could have a home, April."

April froze in surprise..._a home? Here?_

"Just think about it." he pleaded, "I know it's a lot to take in."

She nodded rigorously, her eyes darting from her ring, to the lake, to his face.

"Okay." she whispered, suddenly swarming with exhilaration, "I'll think about it. " her eyes glistened as she took a deep breath, "Alright, I've thought about it."

He looked at her questioningly, and she responded with nothing more than a excited smile. Donatello let a happy chuckle escape him as he leaned forward and wrapped her in a tight hold.

"Good." he breathed.

"You're full of surprises today, Donnie." she said shakily, "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Donatello looked askance as he released a heavy breath.

"That's it." he said as he pecked her cheek. He stopped to pause, "No, wait. It's inscribed."

He tilted his head towards the ring. April looked through her tears at his expectant face, and pulled it off to read the inner edge...

_My beautiful pain, My love, My life._

Her body began heaving with silent laughter as tears fell from her eyes and for a moment he was certain that he broke her. She closed her fist tightly around the ring and fell forward onto the rug.

"You _didn't!_" she finally managed to say between bouts of laughter as little flowers and stems from her broken garland clung to her all over. Trembling, she sat back up and slipped her ring back on, peering up into the star scattered swath of pale indigo sky above her.

"Too much?" he asked, grinning happily.

"Perfect." she said seriously, "It's _perfect_." She climbed forward, falling into his arms. She cupped his face, laying a tender kiss upon his lips.

"I love you." she whispered.

"That's a relief, because I'm completely crazy about you." he replied with a quiet smile.

Smiling, she grabbed his mask tails and leaned back, and he fell forward onto her in a controlled tumble of strong limbs. He held himself over her and stroked her hair, his eyes hazy with love.

"You're so beautiful." he whispered.

"You make me feel it, Donnie. Every day. Even when I don't believe it."

"To me you are." he said softly, "And anyone that disagrees is sorely mistaken - even you, Miss O'Neil." he said, kissing the tip of her nose. She crinkled it, blushing with a humble glow. How did he always manage to say just the thing to make her melt?

"Hm, that's funny." she chuckled, stroking his cheek, "That's exactly how I feel about you."

April glanced back down at her ring, as a staggered sigh of elation escaped her. She was engaged_, _and where they lay would quite possibly be their home...she let the thought buzz around her head, still in a little shock. But there was one thing she was certain of - she couldn't wait. The world burned brighter than ever, as her excitement burst forth. Who cared if it wasn't some ordained and bloated church affair? The most important thing to her was already in her arms.

"We're going to be married..." she whispered uncertainly.

"Yeah." he confirmed, his eyes twinkling as a small smile grew on his face.

"You and I?"

"That's right." he nodded.

"Who's going to do it?"

"We'll find someone." he said as he kissed her cheek. He already had some ideas as to who could perform the ceremony, but would wrangle the fourth high priestess from the order twigs if it would make her happy.

"Okay." she breathed, "Holy shit."

"Yeah." he confirmed again with a chuckle.

"And this...this will be our home?" she asked in wonder.

He nodded, his face suddenly serious. He quickly looked up over the grassy field to where the lake glistened serenely beneath the sinking sun. It was beautiful, but it was all just a place without her.

"Only if you're here with me." he told her gently, looking back into her eyes.

She kissed him softly.

"Of course I'll be. You mean the world to me, Don. So much has happened...so many things keeping us apart..." she began, her eyes searching his face, "but there's just no possible way in my heart I could live without you."

Donatello eyes stung with unfallen tears. Forcing even breaths, he tried not to show how much he knew it to be completely the other way around.

"April..." he barely choked out before dropping his head, "I _know_ I couldn't live without you. My world is empty without you in it. What would I be fighting for if not for us? You've opened my eyes to something more than just surviving. You're the love of my life, Miss O'Neil. And I want start a life with you. A real life. As much as I can give you, anyway."

"Oh, Don." she finally managed to breathe, her eyes lovingly fixed on his, "You already give me so much. Anything else is just...it's icing."

He let out a quiet exhale, uncannily calm. Life seemed so simple with her in it. All the nonsense was filtered out, and all that remained was what really mattered. Not the Foot. Not the fighting. Not their endless battle to restore what had already been lost.

"I love you." he said quietly. From the moment he had met her, he had known it.

She smiled, her eyes laden with unrelenting desire.

"I have a something for you, too." she breathed, tracing her fingers down the taut muscles of his arm. It tickled his skin, and he felt himself stir lower down, piqued by her playfulness.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured. April took his hand and placed it on her leg, guiding it upwards beneath the hem of her dress until it reached the warm nook of her inner thigh.

Donatello tilted his head in surprise.

"No underwear?" he whispered lustily. He felt himself harden under her control, he loved it when she like this, seizing any power he had to bend him to her will...just as much as the opposite way around.

April shook her head and placed a finger on his lips.

"Touch me, Donnie." she whispered with a seductive lilt, her eyes wandering shamelessly over his body.

With a wicked glint in his eye, he bent down to kiss her inner thigh, tracing his soft kisses upwards, knowing that before he was done, she would be screaming his name in the throes of ecstasy.

.

They lay naked in each others arms, a tangle of limbs, the scent of each other upon them, basking in contentment as the chirring chorus of cicadas surrounded them. April's cheeks still burned warm in the early evening air as they looked up into the heavens above them.

"There it is." he whispered, pointing upward and kissing her head.

The twin stars of the campfire constellation twinkled at the end of his fingertip. It seemed forever ago when they had first declared it as theirs, a time when they had still only been friends. How things had changed...

"If only those stars knew what they would be talking about a year ago." she mused idly, rubbing her foot on the inside of his calf. The corner of his mouth shot up into a sultry smile.

"Maybe they're looking at us now." he murmured, glancing down appreciatively at the soft curves of her inviting body.

April stifled a grin, and slapped him across his plastron

"Very funny."

"I wasn't joking." Donatello chuckled, and unable to resist his carefree mood, she snuggled up closer into the crook of his arm, feeling the rumbling of his laughter pass through her. Adoringly, she began running her fingers along the creases of his plastron. He liked it when she did that. They lay in silence listening to the croaking of frogs nearby, as the moon reflected off the lake in a fractured glow and bathed them with light.

"We should stay here the night." she whispered, "We can put the back seats down in the van and leave at dawn."

"Sounds good." he said, kissing her cheek.

Promptly she sat up, grabbed her dress from the pile of his padding gear and pulled it over her head. Instantly she was dressed. April turned back to look over her shoulder.

"I'm being eaten alive." she explained, swatting away mosquitoes that had descended down upon them with the dark, crushing the buzzing swarms against her pale flesh. He accosted her with a devious grin.

"I'm not that bad, am I?"

She rolled back on top of him, straddling his body.

"I'll give _you_ bad, Mr Hamato. I know just where to bite you, too." she said, gnashing her teeth.

"I'll take it." he pleaded lustily, placing his hands just above her knees and gently massaging her. It felt good. Too good.

She shook her head, her eyes glimmering with desire.

"Like I said, _insatiable_." she breathed. Just as suddenly, she hopped off him, "Hold onto that thought."

April skipped over to the van on a mission for repellent. She swung open the door and jumped up onto the seat, locating it quickly within the glove compartment. Humming happily to herself, she began slathering her legs with the citronella lotion, hanging them out of the open vehicle. Inspired, Donatello leapt up and joined her. He leaned over between her parted legs to turn the van key. Reaching further in, he switched on the stereo and began flipping through the radio stations, finding nothing save a static whisper.

She tutted at the radio static, then squeezed out a palm full of the lotion and began to rub his shoulders and neck as he leaned genially into her gliding strokes.

"Try the AM channels." she said, smoothing in the repellent. _Such beautiful skin_, she thought admiringly. She lingered longer than necessary, just to feel it beneath her hands.

"Are you alright there, Miss O'Neil?" he grinned at her business-like expression.

"Hm?" she replied vaguely, "Oh. Yeah. All done. I'm just feeling you up now."

He chuckled and quickly flicked over to AM, twisting the knob, and greeted with nothing but further hisses and crackles. Suddenly something picked up.

"Wait, here we go."

It dropped in as if out of the blue - a woman's clear alto singing a tune from another time, accompanied by a slow horn band.

"I know this song." April said in faint surprise, "My dad used to have this album in the store. It's an oldie from the forties." she rubbed her arms and neck with the remaining lotion then slapped her hands on her thighs, completed with the task.

"It's nice." he remarked.

April smiled, "It is. I think it's called _'I Know Why'_. Good work, Don. You've transported us back to the war."

"I knew I left that time machine around here somewhere..."

She laughed and wrapped her outstretched arms around his neck, clinging to the edge of his carapace.

"Sometimes I don't even know if you're kidding about that stuff." she whispered, leaning her head in to kiss him. That frightening intelligence - it burned bright inside of him. She could feel it whenever he was around, drawn helplessly to it. No-one made her feel like he did. No-one. April breathed in the citrusy scent of the lotion, her lashes gently fluttering as he finally pulled away.

He took her hand and delicately kissed the inside of her wrist.

"Never about anything that matters, captain." he said with wink.

She caught a glint of her ring from the corner of her eye and grinned despite herself.

"Well just so you know, I'm keeping my eye on you. I think you're trying to sleep your way to the top of the ranks."

His eyes glittered with unkempt longing, "Then I hope it's working."

"It might be." she replied with a teasing smile, as she stroked his cheek fondly. They held each others tender gaze as the music played on softly behind them.

_"_Dance with me." he urged in a whisper.

April dropped her chin and looked up at him coyly, her hair tumbling in soft waves by her face.

"How could I say no to you?" she whispered before falling willingly into his arms.

He gently lifted her back down to the ground as one hand traveled up over her waist to rest in the small of her back, pulling her close. Her arms encompassed his neck as together they danced beneath the stars, spinning in slow circles to the gently swinging beat of the music. Lovingly, she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his heart thump beneath his chest plates. She smiled knowing that hers was beating in time.

"That's better." he whispered into her ear.

"Definitely." she agreed dreamily.

His cheek nuzzled against hers, and he heard her breaths, small and quick. Slowly their lips found each other in a soft beguiling kiss, as a torrent of love ran through them both. A divine moment that connected them together. Donatello held his head against hers, his heart roaring with love. If those stars had known back then how good his life could be, he would never have believed it possible.

_This must be a dream_, he thought wistfully. Even still he was waiting to wake up, alone on the floor with a rope tied to him.

_Round and round we go..._

And as they danced, he thought of all the dreams he had been having lately, so exhilarating and so beautiful that he couldn't help but hope they came true. They took him to a place from where his love could only grow. He kept his wish close to his heart, a secret hand he dare not play too soon. But with her love behind him, anything seemed possible. And he knew it was there, he could feel it as strongly as his own, as powerful and vast as an ocean. But even he couldn't know that the next time they would dance to this song would be a sacred moment to them, a day just around the corner at the beginning of their lives together.

As the music ended, she looked back into his eyes.

"Let's go for a swim." she whispered.

Donatello grabbed her hand and they ran laughing to the lake's edge, two souls in love, passionate heat within the icy embrace of the water, so entwined they seemed as just one.

...


End file.
